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NEIGHBOUR HpOD.j 



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^OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 



LETTERS 



ON HORTICULTURE AND NATURAL 



PHENOMENA: 



INTERSPIRSKD WITH 



OPINIONS ON DOMESTIC AND MORAL 



ECONOMY. 




^^^^.U^ 



NEW YORK 

E. BLISS, 111 BROADWAY, 
1831. 






^'T''^lT.t.^ZZ':4L on the sixteenth day of March, Anno 
i I ^Beit REMEMBKRKD, inai district, hath deposited m this 

^S'ie'tSe oKokTthlS^ of Which is'in the words following, 



L. S; 



"Our Ndjbourhood, or Letters on Horticulture and Natural Phenomena; 
inter^SerJed witropinions on Domestic and Moral Economy 

Clerk of the Southern District of JVew York. 



.Sleight & Robinsoif; prin^rs. 



DEDICATION. 



TO THE TWO SOCIETIES, 



THE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY OF PENNSYLVANIA 

AND THE 

HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY OF MASSACHUSETTS, 



'J 



THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATEDj 

BY 

THEIR OBLIGED AND GRATEFUL FRIENDj 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



This work is written with the hope of exciting a 
love of horticulture and of rural pursuits, which com- 
prehend in their range a taste for natural science. It 
was not. therefore, thought necessary to present it in 
the form of a gardener's calendar, or to observe any 
regularity of dates. A work on mere gardening would 
not admit of speculations such as are indulged by the 
author of " Our Neighbourhood," nor would it be de- 
sirable to withdraw the attention of the reader from the 
main object, to dwell on the mechanical operations of 
an art which the many good books on gardening so 
minutely detail. 

The novel form in which natural phenomena are 
introduced in these volumes may not meet with general 
approbation : for those who are fond of such investiga- 
tions will find it difficult to tolerate the domestic scenes, 
which must necessarily mingle with them, as they 
make part of the design. On the other hand, those 
who might dwell with indulgence on the in-door 
sketches of character and on such portions as the bio- 
graphy of Mr. Parr and Hilary Hix, might be impatient 
of the interruption of graver matter. To render the 
work, therefore, more acceptable to both classes of 
readers, the author has divided it into three parts, the 
first of which is now presented to the pubhc. 

1* 



PREFACE. 



The work is simply what its title indicates, the his- 
tory of a neighboui-hood, the individuals of which are 
living in harmony and mutual confidence, every man 
valued and esteemed according to his merit — the plain, 
unlettered farmer and mechanic being as much re- 
pected, and as necessary to the well doing of the com- 
munity, as if their intellectual acquirements were of the 
highest order. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 



LETTER I 



W9%^ AyC^ 



My dear Cousin, 

We must submit, I suppose, to your remaining in 
the United States, but it is painful to be separated from 
you. James and Clara are quite unhappy about it, and I 
bear it still worse, as I have no one to supply your loss. 
What would have become of me during that year of de- 
spondency, if you had not devoted yourself to the cure of 
my sickly fancies ? 

The reasons you urge for my joining you are certainly 
very strong ; and if you continue in the same mind that you 
now are, and will give me a full and very minute account of 
every thing that occurs to you — either on your farm or in 
your neighbourhood ; — if you will be very particular in 
relating to me the sentiments and views Of those with 
whom you daily associate, why, I will — if the report 
please me — bid adieu to England, and join you in the 
United States. I am really in earnest ; but it is so diffi- 
cult for me to bring my affairs to a close here, that unless 



b OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

you can make it appear to be a very desirable thing, I can- 
not go cheerfully to work. 

Have you a good neighbourhood? — Have you any sen- 
sible, well informed, well educated people there ? — Are they 
fond of investigating the phenomena of natural science ?— 
On tliis I lay great stress. Do they imderstand the arts of 
horticulture ? — or are they a set of people got together by 
accident, without any similarity of tastes, and without any 
qualifications to make themselves agreeable to one another 1 
I am not going to impose the task on you of giving me a 
hi^ory of what passes in the United States at large — that 
I cairgftli^r€ron*fj^y^b and travellers — ^but I want to know 
to what particular set of people you are inviting me — for it 
is- with them I am to live. What are their morals and 
their knowledge ? 

Camiot you, at the close of the evening, give me an ac- 
count of what occurs through the day, just as I used to do 
when you were left at school during the holydays ? — 
Come, you owe me something for that — let me have your 
diary once a month, and I shall not only bear this separa- 
tion better^ but I shall be gaining knowledge to begin with. 

James improves in heaith, but still I should like to see 
liim better. Clara looks anxious. She asked me the other 
day whether I thought that a sea voyage would be of ser- 
vice to him. I told her that I was sure it would. I should 
not therefore be much surprised if we all followed you. 
Hilary Hix has really fi-etted himself thin, either because 
he could not go to you with his family this summer, or be- 
cause he did not prevent our new neighbour from leasing 



^ OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 9 

the little recess of land adjoining the forge. Hilary has 
taken a violent dislike to Mr. Gregory, or rather to his son 
David, who is for ever at his heels asking questions Mr. 
Gregory leased the land to his old rheumatic huntsman, 
<, ^liQi)ia§ se«^rg^l p^iCks of hounds j and the noise and con- 
fusion^which tjiey crea1ie,Jias entirely destroyed poor Hila- 
ry's comfort. This pert young man, Mr. David Gregory, 
has mounted up to Hilary's green house, and this of itself 
is a heinous offence, for I have told you how private and 
sacred he keeps his plants ; but I have wonders to tell you 
by and by of Hilary and his family. 

Hilary seems very fearful that you will think of marry- 
ing in America ; why he dreads this I cannot say, unless it 
be that he feels himself so much happier since he lost his 
wife, that he is unwilling you should incur the risk that he 
did. But I say, marry as soon as you can. 

Now, my dear cousin, if you are in reality anxious to see 
me in the United States, you must enter into the most mi- 
nute particulars of every thing concerning yourself and 
your neighbourhood. I tell you truly, that if I am pleased 
with your remarks and facts, I ^^'ill join you in a few 
months ; and I will make it appear so desirable to James 
and Clara, that they too will make arrangements to go 
with me. Keep an eye on a farm near you when you 
make a purchase for yourself, and remember that you can 
draw on me to any amount you choose. 

All send their love. M 

Your affectionate friend and cousin, 

S- ■ 



10 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER ir. 

My dear Cousin, ^.^ x^ * ^tL.*! 

What you require of me would be enough to frighten 
any one who was not influenced by the same motives that 
I am. I will keep you to your word : let me, therefore, 
see if I understand distinctly what you ask of me. You 
say that you will come to America in a few months, pro- 
vided the information I give you of the customs, disposi- 
tions, knowledge, and morals of the people who compose 
my neighbourhood, is such as to make a favourable impres- 
sion on you. You want, likewise, a daily account of what 
occurs on my farm, accompanied by such remarks as the 
subject would naturally suggest. Now, to effect the object 
of your coming over here, I would undertake a more un- 
pleasant task than the one you have set me. You are the 
companion and friend of my youth, and are dear to me in a 
thousand ways : I cannot be happy unless you are near 
me. Circumstances will not permit me to remain in Eng- 
land, so that it becomes a matter of necessity to get you to 
this country. I feel no scruple about persuading you to 
come, because I know you will gain both health and happi- 
ness here — both of which you deny yourself at home. 

I ha^ prudence enough to take an active part in the 
different branches of farming. I have already given you 
an account of my sojourn with Mr. F., ^vith whom I lived 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 11 

nearly a year : he is one of the best agriculturists in this, 
or indeed in any country. I then lived another year with 
Mr. R., one of the most skilful of horticulturists. I think my 
tastes are in unison with the latter occupation : there is 
more variety, and consequently a greater exercise of men- 
tal power. What I have learned on these two subjects, or 
rather on the latter subject, you shall know likewise, pro- 
vided it continues to be interesting to you. 

Tell James that my farm is romantically situated, I wish 
a description of it might entice him to come here. Dear 
Clara would be happy with him any where ; but here she 
would enjoy tenfold happiness, for the climate is just such a 
one as would cure James of all his nervous affections. The 
fine bracing air which generally prevails here, would invi- 
gorate him. Tell Clara that the mountain scenery in this 
country far exceeds any thing she can imagine. 

When you see my farm, you will agree with me in 

^« I "Win 

thinking that I could not have chosen a more suitable spot, 
both for profit and for the gratification of taste. But what 
to a farmer should be of the first importance, it is plentifully 
supplied with wood -and water. The neighbourhood is very 
healthy; and, to sum up all the advantages, there are 
several men of talents, all having agreeable families, within 
half an hour's ride. 

I would dwell much on the canal which bounds the 
north side of the farm, did I not know your aversion to that 
" long line of still water ," but you would care but little for 
its propinquity, were you to see the beautiful river which 
flows around the western boundary. At this moment I 



-12 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

can count fifteen sail — none larger than a sloop, to be sure, 
and some of no higher dignity than a pleasure boat, one of 
which is my own — ^but we are, besides this, to have a 
steamboat soon. 

My house stands on an eminence ; and from the east 
window I can see the pretty Httle village called Brighton. 
Were it not for the gently-swelling hill to the south, I might 
see that famous manufacturing town called Wicklowe, 
which is at the foot of the hill on the other side. But I had 
enough of such sights in England ; and I enjoy more the 
view of Dr. Bentley's farm, which lies on this side of the 
slope of the above mentioned hill : it is called West Hill 
Dr. Bentley is an excellent physician : this is a desirable 
circumstance in selecting a farm. The doctor is an intelh- 
gent, agreeable man, and is besides a man of science and 
taste. Physicians in this country, generally, have a more 
diversified and extensive knowledge of literary and scien- 
tific matters, than those of other professions, either in 
America or England : they talk well on any subject ; and 
if they strike out nothing new, which, however, is not the 
case here, as they partake of the ingenuity of the country, 
they at least know what others have been doing. This, 
you know, is sajdng a great deal. 

Between the doctor's farm and mine, lies a farm of four 
hundred acres, of the best land in the country. There is a 
fine site for a house on it, preferable, I think, to mine; there 
being a view of the harbour from the knoll, from which 
enlivening sight I am shut out by a cluster of rocks which 
project from below. I hesitated a little before I purchased 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 13 

my farm ; for I certainly preferred the one next to me, but 
prudence decided in favour of the one I bought : besides, 
let me own, that I have always had a strong hope of your 
coming to America ; and were you to search the country 
over, you could not find a more beautiful spot than this one 
which you have now in your power to buy. 

Had I bought the adjoining farm, I should have been 
obliged to build a house and barn, as there are no improve 
ments whatever on it — this would not have suited my 
finances. I have a good house, barn, and outhouses, all 
of stone and in good repair, a little antique to be sure, but 
of comfortable dimensions. You have a genius for plan- 
ning, and dislike old houses ; besides, your fortune is ample 
-and you can afford to spend your money in embellishments. 
How you would be worshipped in our little community. I 
have held out the prospect of your coming here, which has 
produced some little commotion. A clever neighbour in 
the country is a valuable acquisition. Dr. Bentely, who 
would be your immediate neighbour, is already making 
room for you in his time. I am amused to hear how much 
he intends to appropriate to you. 

A. mile from us lives an intelligent mechanic, of the 
name of Grant. He is one of the most ingenious and use- 
ful men I ever saw. He has understood from me that you 
have a turn for mechanics, and he expects great pleasure 
from your society. He came to see me the other day pur- 
posely to talk of your coming : he showed me the plan of 
a house which, as far as I can judge, is excellent. You 

•2 



14 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

\vill find an able coadjutor in Mr. Grant — he -will anticipate 
yonr thoughts. 

Every body will assist in building your house. I veiily 
believe that it would rise as speedily as did Aladdin's palace, 
so eager are they to get you here. The practice here, in 
country places, is for ' every one to turn out and help a 
neighbour when a house or bam is to be built. For instance, 
stone, brick, lime, boards, and lumber, are brought to the 
spot in wagons, and all assist in raising the heavy frame 
work. 

Do you think that James and Clara could be tempted to 
come here ? There is, unfortunately, no farm for sale im- 
mediately, near to mine ; but Dr. Bentley, after gathering 
together such scraps of character as I have chosen to give 
him, has decided that he will not want a farm. He says 
that a neat little spot on the margin of a river, with a small, 
modem built house, covered wdth honeysuckles and sur- 
rounded with evergreens, and a grove and a waterfall to 
finish the outline, is all that he wants. He dragged me 
the other morrung through a wood almost impassable on 
account of the thick underwood and briers, to see a cottage 
such as I have described. It is about half a mile from my 
house. The Doctor had just heard that the old ladj- \Vho 
now inhabits it \vill sell for a " consideration.'' After point- 
ing it out to me, he led the way to the pretty little village 
which I mentioned — Brighton : and there I made acquaint- 
ance with some of the shopkeepers, a very curious race of 
people in this country, but all exceedingly alike, all keep- 
insT the same articles, but of the most diversified nature. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 15 

wooden and hardware, crockery, salt provisions, groceries 
and dry goods, as well as grain of all kinds. These men, 
generally, have small farms, and the cleverest of them soon 
advance themselves to the dignity of an office — such as 
justice of the peace, assessor, &c. 

Every man here "is a politician ; he knows what the 
government is doing, and how the men in office in his own 
state are conducting themselves. In fact they keep a vigi- 
lant eye here on the general police of the country, and I 
have never conversed with a single man above the stand- 
ing of a scavenger, who was not interested and well inform- 
ed enough in the civil policy of the country to take an ac- 
tive part either in forwarding or frustrating any project that 
was set on foot by cabal or caucus. 

There is a great effort made, at present, to prevent the 
mail from travelling on Sunday, and even in so small a 
place as Brighton — with a population of only two hundred 
and eighty persons, parties are running very high. I was 
very much astonished to hear a very plain looking, elderly 
man speak of the regulations of the English mails. He 
was as well informed on the subject as I was myself. Ask 
any of the small country shopkeepers in any of our shires 
in England, and ascertain whether they know any thing of 
the mail policy of their own country, setting aside that of 
America, of which they know nothing. 



1^ OUR NEIGHBOURHOOI/^ 



LETTER III 

So James laughed out, did he, when he learned hove 
well we understood his tastes. It must have been a 
pleasant thing to dear Clara to hear him laugh aloud. 1 
shall now scribble on with additional pleasure, as there is 
some prospect of such, an agreeable acquisition as James 
and Clara. Now if you could but prevail on Hilary Hix 
to come with you — and how can you do without him ? — we 
shall be quite at home again. Tell Hilary that I will build 
a workshop for him under a huge sycamore adjoining Dr 
Bentley's green house ; this will entice him, 1 am sure, 

I am glad that you tliink the land cheap. In fact it is 
considered so here, as farms more remote from the canal 
bring at the rate of sixty dollars an acre. With the ex- 
pectation of your purchasing the adjoining farm I have 
leased it for two years, and have the privilege of purchasing 
it at the rate of sixty dollars an acre at any time within 
that period. You gave me a sort of carit blanche to draw 
on you for money, so I have taken the liberty of judging 
for you. Being persuaded that you will buy the farm, I 
have encroached a little on the terms, as I have engaged 
already all the manure which is collected in one of the nu- 
merous villages which surround us, a little place called 
Moreland, where a capacious inn for drovers and carters 
will supply your farm with iill the manure that you wiU. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 17 

want to purchase. As to rnyself, I do not intend to keep a 
large stock of cattle ; I have but two cows — short horned 
Durhams — four horses, and four pigs. What should I do 
with a large stock, when my object is horticulture. Your 
farm is particularly suited for grazing, and Hilary, who 
knows all the points of a good cow, can select two or three 
for you, which you can bring with you. Fine horses can 
be purchased here. 

Dr. Bentley has just been here with a neighbour, at least, 
we call him a neighbour, although he lives on the oppo- 
site side of the river. His name is Haywood. He is a stout, 
healthy looking man, very respectable, and has a large 
family. He has contrived to bring up and educate six sons 
and two daughters on a farm of two hundred acres. I have 
promised to dine with him on Tuesday next ; Dr. Bentley 
'says that he is a first rate farmer. There is a good view 
of Mr. Haywood's farm from the Doctor's hovse. 

I am going t o drink tea wi th Mrs. Wells. This lady has^ 
retired from teaching a school, to a handsome competency. 
If I get tired of a single life, I have an excellent chance 
of suiting myself with a wife, for there are a number of well 
educated women within an evening's ride. 

Mrs. Bentley and I walked over to Lee cottage, as it i.^ 
called, I to see the cottage and she to see Mrs. Bell's grand- 
daughter. We young men are always vain, enough to 
fancy ourselves of the first importance, and I am no better 
than the rest. I really took it in my head, from Mrs. Bent- 
ley's manner, that she intended me to fall in love wiih the 
young lady at first sight, as she had been represpfitpd to, 

2* 



18 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

me as a paragon of toveliness. Whatever my compamon sr 
intentions were, certainly a change took place soon after 
we entered. 

I was introduced to Mrs. Bell as a gentleman who had 
some thoughts of purchasing the cottage, and I was of 
course graciously received. As soon as we were seated. 
Mrs. Bentley disappeared through a side door, and after 
leaving me to converse with the old lady as well as I could, 
for nearly half an hour, she made her appearance again, 
and it struck me that she had been weeping. As she did 
not sit down, I arose and we took our leave. We walked 
fast without interchanging a word until we reached the 
lawn in front of my house, when Mrs. Bentley stopped to 
take breath. 

I am very sorry, said sh€, at kngth, that my husband 
proposed that little cottage to you. Why? said I. Because, 
continued she, there is a very urgent reason for your not 
buying it. I looked at her with surprise : Why, said I. 
you talked of it as a very desirable thing on our way there . 
what 'can have occurred to change your opinions 1 Mr. 
Allen, said she, I had a conversation udth Julia Bell, and 
she says that it never was her father's wish that the cottage 
should pass out (rfher hands, and that it would distress her 
very much to part with it to a stranger. She is a lovely 
girl, Mr. Allen, and we all feel the deepest interest in her 
fate, which, coupled as it is with the destinies of so strange 
a woman as Mrs. Bell, is an unfortunate one. After know- 
ing her wishes on this subject we must try to prevent any 
one from making an offer for the cottao-e. It cannot be ot 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 1^ 

material importance to you, as your cousin does not yet 
even know of the existence of the place. 

No, certainly not, said I, but I am really sorry to give it 
up; I presume, however, if the cottage is ever in danger 
of being sold, that I shall be apprised of it. Certainly, said 
she, we will take care of that ; meantime do not let this con 
versation be repeated, for Mrs. Bell will be vexed, and Julia 

will be the sufferer — so there is an end of it. And so 

there is end of Lee cottage for our dear James and Clara, 
but Dr. Bentley will turn the very hills inside out to procure 
a suitable place for our friends. I shall trust to his zeal 
and let the matter rest at present. 

I returned from Mrs. Wells' about half an hour ago, very 
much gratified indeed. The lady had invited all her neigh- 
bours to meet me, and really there was a pleasant show. 
Two of Mr. Haywood's sons were there ; honest, frank 
looking fellows both — ^but one of them, Stephen, full of fun 
and ready for a laugh. He has promised to put me in the 
way of burying my crop of potatoes ; for it seems there is 
some skill necessary in the operation. The other brother, 
Andrew, looks with a gentle eye on Miss Wells ; but the 
lady is either cautious or cold : she refused, in no doubtful 
manner, to ride his favourite horse ; and poor Andrew had 
a mortified look for the remainder of the evening. 

There was much of regret shown for the absence of the 
lovely cottage- girl, Miss Julia Bell. Great efforts had been 
made to get her there. Mrs. Wells had written a note, and 
Miss Kitty and Miss Maria carried it ; but the young lady 
refused ; and I was told that I had lost a great deal of plea- 



20 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

sure. . There were also there two lovely, Hebe-looking 
j^irls, sisters, of the name of Webb, well shaped, of good 
height and figure ; and yet their parents are almost dwarfs. 
They live about two miles off, on a beautiful farm called 
Oak Valley. I had often heard of the little couple. I am 
told there are six children, all girls, and not one of small 
stature. The other guests consisted of a grave, sensible 
looking person, by the name of Parr, with his wife, a good 
humoured lady, and a Mr. Root, an elderly gentleman, who 
had with him a young lady. Miss Emily Forbes, to whom 
he is guardian, and of whom he is very fond. Stephen 
Haywood escorted the young ladies, Webb, home ; and 
Andrew, his brother, after a little persuasion, agreed to 
spend the night with me, 

I believe I have introduced you to the greater part of my 
neighbours : it is now quite time to give you a little insight 
into my farming operations, and my speculations thereon 
As my opinions are unbiassed, they will have the merit of 
novelty. I hope you will take an interest in them ; if not. 
you have only to tell me to stop. When I know my neigh 
hours better, I will speak more of them and less of myself 
and my farm. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 21 



LETTER IV 

Monday, JSTovember Ist, 18 — . — I began this morning to 
open the earth around my grape- vines ; young Haywood 
remaining with me to show me the way that succeeds best 
with him. He spent Sunday with me, and I find him quite 
a sensible man. He says that he has tried every method 
suggested by the experience of others, and yet he does not 
consider himself as successful in the culture of grapes. Dr. 
Bentley has a great many grape-vines, and takes uncom- 
mon pains with them ; yet, unwilling- a,s he is to own it, he 
had but few bunches that ripened well this autumn. He 
insists on it that grapes should be trained up high, like hisj 
over a trellis that has an open roof; and certainly the only 
fine bunches he had were there : but really the expense of 
all this post, rail, and roof work, is rather out of proportion 
to the quantity of grapes thus raised. I found a short 
grape-walk, well stocked with grapes, on my farm. They 
bore this year, for the first time ; and, although the mildew 
was very destructive, and the vine-fretter and curculio 
destroyed the leaves, yet I had here and there a good 
bunch, which enabled me to judge of the value of the dif- 
ferent kinds. 

After opening the earth around the vine, I scraped off all 
the loose bark, and little knotty roughnesses, which one 



22' OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

usually sees on a vine near to the ground. I cut off what 
are termed day-roots — those small roots which proceed 
from the stem near the surface of the ground. After this 
operation, I whitewashed the whole stem, even covering 
the eyes or buds ; I then bent the stem down and fastened 
it strongly, a few inches under ground, by means of a forked 
stick ; lastly, I drew the earth up to the stem again, and 
tied a wisp of straw, or rather laid a bunch of straw, on 
each plant, throwingjfiiiiitworUJie edges to prevent the wind 
from blowing the straw away. Haywood says that I shall 
have finer grapes next summer, than my neighbours ; but 
the doctor shakes his head. Every man has a pet method 
of raising grapes ; but I fear that I shall have to give the 
matter up. The truth is, that the vine does not bear well 
more than once or twice, excepting in cities ; there the 
frost and dew, both so hurtful, are kept off, by the constant 
agitation which the smoke and dust causes among atmos- 
pheric gases, and by warm enclosures. It must be that 
the difficulty Hes with the bark of the old wood, as well as 
with the roots, which run deep in the ground. Young 
Haywood thmks that this may be the case ; for when he 
bends the old stump entirely down under ground, and only 
allows the new wood that shoots out from the buds to 
appear above ground in the spring ; and at the end of two 
years, if he separates the layer from the old root, the crop 
of grapes is free from mildew. I did not see his grapes last 
year, when he made the experiment, but I hear that he 
had the finest grapes in the county. This summer he gave 
ijp the grape-vines to his youngest brother, who chose to 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 2'S 

let them run up over a trellis, after the manner of Dr. 
Bentley, having refused to cut them off, as his brother 
Andrew advised. I find that great care is necessary during 
the season of blossoming, as the frost is very apt to injure 
the flowers and young leaves. Straw mats, set up before 
the vines every evening, when frost is apprehended, will 
effectually prevent it. 

What volumes have been written on the subject of the 
vine ! — and yet we are no nearer the true mode of raising 
'grapes than we were before a line was written. There are 
certain thing's, about which there can be no mistake. Give 
a cabbage a good deep soil, and it will never disappoint us ; 
do what we will with a grape-vine, it is subject to so many 
casualties, that we can only expect a crop once in six 
years. I find that in the middle states the grapes which 
succeed best are the yellow, amber-coloured, or golden chas- 
selas. It may be known as soon as the tender leaves put 
out at the extremities, they being of a copper or deep fawn 
colour. The next best is the black cluster — a small, tight- 
bunched grape. The extremities of the leaves are a gray, 
or sage-coloured white, the under side of which is woolly. 
Neither of these grapes is subject to mildew ; but excess 
of heat or cold, moisture or dryness, very materially mjures 
the berries. 

Whatever the cause may be, it certainly is a fact, that 
\ines do not fruit well after they are four or five years old, 
excepting in cities, or in warm, small enclosures. When 
this important truth is known by persons who are accus- 
tomed to solve difficulties, we shall learn whether it be 



24 OUft NEIGHBOURHOOD 

within the compass of ordinary skill to remedy the evi] ■ 
What causes this mildew ? This is a secret which is yet 
undiscovered. As far as my limited observation extends, 
1 ascribe it to obstructed perspiration, and to the ascent of 
too much of the watery particles of the sap. The malady 
makes its appearance when a few hot days have been suc- 
ceeded by cold nights, or when a moist atmosphere has 
been followed by excessive droughts. Exotic plants 
suffer very much from the changeableness of oiu climate : 
nay, the grapes even of our southern states are very mate- 
rially injured when transplanted to a colder region. The 
Isabella grape, for instance, during the long drought of this 
last summer in the middle and northern states, was both 
mildewed, and exceedingly sour and worthless. There is 
a very remarkable circumstance about grapes, which is, 
that a certain degree of humidity in the atmosphere is ne- 
cessary to develope the saccharine principle. T\Tiereas in 
other fruits, such as apples, pears, and peaches, although a 
drought materially injures the size and aromatic flavour, 
yet there seems to be a concentration of the sugary juices. 
It would appear therefrom, that the ductile vessels of the 
-^ine requii-e a certain quantity of external lubrication to 
correspond with the rapidit}^ of the circulation of sap 
within. 

I know that you are very anxious to get all the informa- 
tion you can on this subject. I shall give you from time to 
time, as you have desired, whatever new matter may oc- 
cur. I have intelligent neighbours, all cultivating the 
grape, and striving to outdo each other. We have an ex- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 25 

«:ellent market for fruit, and this, you know, is a great 
stimulus. 

There can- be no doubt but that all persons who raise 
grapes have a strong desire to succeed in the culture of 
them, and yet how very few are successful ! Two years 
of good bearing, and the beauty and value of the plant are 
gone. It is either seen trailing on the ground in mutilated 
branches, or it hangs slovenly over a trellis, or a confined 
arbour, with branches, tendrils, and twigs interlacing each 
other — a dense mass, impervious to light and heat. The 
few bunches which hang underneath are sour and wa 
tery, and in two or three years the vine is a mere nursery 
for caterpillars and other vermin. 

But the most provoking part of the whole history is that 
no one tells the truth about grapes. I allude as well to 
those persons who raise plants for sale, as to those who 
pride themselves on great horticultural knowledge, and 
cultivate them for pleasure. I' am perfectly amazed at 
the reluctance which- is felt by almost every man to ac- 
knowledge that his grapes are mildewed. I have seen 
men, of the strictest integrity' iii ordinary matters, so morti- 
fied at the failure of a crop that they have resorted to 
every species of- -prevarication to deceive. "1 went with 
Dr. Bentl^one 'day in September to see a neighbour of 
Mr. GrafttAjAVho' had a fine grapery, and who prides him- 
self 'ft|K)n-'His knowledge of the art of culture. We went 
in unewpectedly, and at the back gate too, and there we 
caught our worthy fi-iend with a basket on his arm filled 
\Adth -mildewed. grapes! - .-'- ^ - ■' ' '- ' 

3 



26 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

We were well aware of his sensibilities, so we did not 
cast an eye on the basket which he quickly deposited 
in a root house, muttering something indistinctly about 
gathering grapes for a sick friend. Notwithstanding that 
nearly half a bushel had been cut off, enough still re- 
mained to show that mildew had been very busy there. 
Whenever we came to one of these blighted bunches, if he 
could not nip it off and throw it over the fence unobserved, 
he would say, " a bunch or two slightly affected, as this is, 
does not injure the vine : I think myself very fortunate in 
having escaped so well." And when I observed that the 
leaves of the grape vine were seriously injured this summer 
by the insect called the vine-fretter, he shifted the conver- 
sation by taking as to a favourite vine near his house, 
which being in its fourth year was in full bearing and was 
really beautiful. Here his pleasure was extreme, for he 
could breathe freely while we regaled on the delicious fruit 
which was a white Lisbon. There was no mildew, no 
vine-fretter, no curculio, no rot of any kind, and we could 
admire both the beauty of the grape and the liberality of 
our host, who cut off bunch after bunch with greater plea- 
sure than he abstracted those which were mildewed. 

Mr. Thorn trims his grapes according to the French 
mode — two buds this year, four the next, and so on. I 
shall follow young Haywood's mode, for this year, at least, 
and if it do not succeed, then I must give up the culture of 
grapes. The approved mode, here, is to plant the vines 
six feet apart each way, if for a vineyard, or if for a walk, 
five feet is not thought to be too near together. One thing I 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 27 

was instructed in and that is quite essential. This is, never 
to put a grape-vine, or any plant by a post. In a few years 
the post rots and then the vine or plant will be injured by 
the process of putting in a new one. 

r 



2& OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER V 



: aooi 




Dr. Bentley has a grape-walk of about two hundi'ed 
feet in length, the posts of the treUis are made of white 
oak, five inches square at bottom and four by two at the 
top ; the length is about eight feet, two of which are imder 
ground. My trellis, which was made in a similar manner^ 
has been cut down, leaving only four feet above and eigh- 
teen inches under ground. The laths or slats are divided 
on the posts equally, being three in number. The proper 
time for felling trees for posts or timber, is in August. What- 
ever is thus cut should be left to season for a year and then 
taken to the saw-mill. When sawed in suitable pieces, 
each piece should be charred at the bottom just so far as it is 
to be sunk in the ground. Posts, cut and charred in this way, 
will last for twenty years ; but unless the wood is cut in Au- 
gust, and seasoned for a year in some dry place, it is worse 
than useless to char them. It has been ascertained that when 
unseasoned timber is charred, the rot takes place much 
sooner than if left without charring. The timber from full 
grown trees lasts longer than that from young saplings : 
even the limb of an old white oak will be of longer duration 
as a post, than one of the same size of a young one. 

You and I used to discuss the subject of the rise of sap 
in plants. I should like to refer to it minutely, as it is so 
connected with the above remarks. I have of late gathered 
some new hints from one of oar intelhgent savans, and 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 29 

in the course of a year I may have occasion to speak more 
fully on this topic : meantime I must continue my remarks 
on grapes. 

I think it far better to manure vines in the autumn, as 
the rains»wash the fertilizing principle to a depth on a line 
with the roots, where it lies inactive until the return of spring. 
As soon as there is sufficient warmth to enable the sap to 
rise, the spongelets at the roots are excited to action and can 
receive the decomposed particles which the gases now- 
forward to them. If manure is applied in the spring — and I 
am speaking of partially rotted manure — the gases, which 
in this stage of the decomposition are very active, carry off 
the volatile particles before they can reach the roots. All 
perennial plants should be manured in the fall. The ground 
intended for all plants with roots running deep in the ground 
should likewise be manured in the autumn, and those with 
roots near the top, should be manured in the spring. But 
let me go on to speak of grapes. 

However perfect our system of cultivating the \dne may 
be, it is of no avail, unless we can conquer the two great 
evils to which it is subject, namely, the mildew and the 
vine-fretter. I do not know which is most destructive to 
the crop. The former has an immediate effect on the 
bunches of grapes, and the latter on the leaves, which, of 
course, ultimately affects the grapes ; for, as it is well 
known, that the leaves are the respiratory organs of a plant, 
it must be presumed that whatever injures them, will have 
an effect on the plant itself As to the mildew, which is a 
fungus arising from the union of the rejected secretions "S'f 

3* 



30 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

the berry and atmospheric depositions, it is undoubtedly 
owing to the sudden changes in the weather, that it is so 
destructive : there is no way of preventing the disease, but 
by guarding against these changes: such as shading the 
plants during the hottest parts of the day, and covering them 
at night, if it be unusually cold. The circulation of sap in 
the vine, owing to its organic structure, and to the great 
increase and deep sinking of its roots, is very rapid ; and in 
the spring of the year particularly so — of course, the per- 
spiration must be in great abundance. If this be suddenly 
checked, as is the case in cold nights, after very hot days, 
or, in fact, after a succession of cold days, at the period 
when the berries are formed, the pores are closed, and never 
after recover sufficient tone to be enabled to eject the secre- 
tions, or to slough off the unwholesome depositions of the 
atmosphere. What this mildew is I cannot say. I have 
not been able to dissolve it, either in acids or alkalies. When 
it first appears, it lies like white frost on the berries ; but 
after a day or two, it becomes a toughly connected film, 
inclining to brown as the season advances. It is not the 
berrieg alone which are affected by the obstruction ; the 
branches and stems likewise dwindle, and look diseased ; 
they are freckled in irregular spots, and become stinted in 
length and size. 

The vine-fretter is a very small insect, not larger than 
the seed of Madeira lettuce, which it somewhat resembles 
in colour and shape. It multiplies very fast, and is not 
affected by heat, cold, drought, or rain. I have not yet 
been able to find out where it deposits its eggs ; as soon as 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 31 

I do, I will make some attempts to destroy them. One 
would think that it could not be in the power of such insig- 
nificant insects to injure the health of a large plant ; but 
that this is the case, we have only to look at the shrivelled 
appearance of the leaves. These insects are never seen on 
the upper surface of the leaves, nor do they rest for more 
than a second on the under part. The very moment we 
touch the leaf, they jump off, either to another leaf, or on 
the ground. The male is larger than the female, and is 
different in colour and marks, having horizontal stripes on its 
back, and being of a pale green colour. In two weeks 
from the time they commence their operations on the leaves, 
the healthy, lively appearance of the plant is gone ; the 
bunches of grapes hang flaccid and lifeless from the stems, 
and the berries have no flavour. I have not yet ascertained 
whether the curculio, another insect, of the beetle tribe, 
punctures the berries of the grape ; but I know that they 
injure the leaves quite as much as the vine-fretters do. 
These curculios (or curculiones) commence their work of 
destruction about a month earlier than the vine-fretter ; and 
this year, but for my vigilance, they would not have left 
any part of the leaf untouched, I found that each leaf had 
a number of round holes in it, about the size of a very sinall 
pea, and I concluded for several days, that the leaf bee had 
made the perforations ; but independently of the fact, that 
the leaf-bee cuts a semi-circular piece from the edge of the 
leaf, on closer inspection, I saw that a much smaller in- 
sect was at work. The curcuHo which I detected on the 
grape-leaf, is different both from the one which stings the 



32 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

pea, and the one that stings fruit. It is however mort 
nearly resembling the pea-bug, or rather pea-curculio. 
having no proboscis. The curculio which commits such 
ravages on fruit, has a long proboscis rising immediately 
from the thorax, with two feelers originating at the extre- 
mity of the proboscis, and which, in a state of rest, lie close 
to it. These insects are scarcely the third of an inch long : 
they are of an oval shape, having wings which enable 
them to fly from vine to \TLne, while those that destroy 
the fruit are capable of fljdng from tree to tree. 

I said that I did not know whether they injured the ber- 
ries of the grape ; this doubt arises from the circumstance 
of my having but very few grapes this summer, the 
cold was so intense the last winter that nearly all the 
grape-^dnes in my neighbourhood were frozen to the roots. 
Of course not many grapes could be expected this season, 
as the whole growth of vine has proceeded immediately 
from the roots. The cold, however, which was so severe 
upon the vine itself, did not injure or decrease the num'i^ef 
of insects, for never have they been seen in such numbers 

Both Dr. Bentley and young Haywood say that they 
have never seen a curculio on the grape-leaf before, and 
they both agree likewise in asserting that the pea-bug, and 
the curculio which perforates the grape-leaf, are the same 
insect. They certainly resemble each other very much ; 
the greatest difference is in colour and marks. The pea- 
buo- is generally one shade of colour — a dusky gray black, 
whereas the other is of a dusky brown black, vidth brown 
spots across the back. The one which stings the fruif is of a 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 33 

uniform dusky gray black, having, as I before observed, a 
long proboscis with feelers at the extremity ; whereas the 
feelers of the curculio which perforates the grape-leaf, and 
that which inhabits the pea, proceed immediately from the 
thorax. 

Although these insects are known irt Europe, yet no re- 
gular notice has been taken of them. De la Q,uintinye, 
one of the ablest of our early horticulturists, and head 
gardener to Louis the fourteenth, speaks of prefering some 
kind of plums to others " because they were less liable to 
be stung by an insect," but he never describes the insect 
itself. I suspect that they are not so destructive either in 
France or England as they are in this country. The very 
instant that we approach the vine or the tree, these little 
creatures drop off as if they were dead, and as they make 
their legs (six in number) lie close to their body, it is very 
difficult to find them on the ground. In fact if we do not 
see them fall we may look for them in vain, 

I observed that vines of two and three years of age, bore 
the last hard winter better than either older or younger 
ones. In fact those that were set out the year before all 
perished, and older ones died down to the roots. Even 
those vines which were buried deep and were well pro- 
tected from frost, by means of salt hay and manure, fared 
no better than the rest, for although the vines did not die 
down to the ground, yet the young wood shot out very 
feebly from the eyes, and bore no grapes. On the three 
year old vines, however, I had several fine bunches, and 



34 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

what was very remarkable, some of them were the white 
Frontignac, a very delicate grape — and without doubt the 
finest flavoured grape in the world, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD '*'* 



LETTER VI ^ y% y^ 

Mr. Thorn ha/ the charge of iWy farm for the last y 

year, being connected with the former owner. He took 
great pains with my grape-vines, and having furnished all 
the plants, he was able to tell me their names, of which he 
kept a list. He has a hearty contempt for the native 
grapes, and thinks that no culture will improve their good- 
ness, although it may increase their size. He pointed out 
to me a common fox-grape, in a hedge, loaded with fine 
purple grapes ; from which, several years ago, he took a 
cutting. He planted this cutting against a south wall, in 
a very rich sandy loam, where it grew luxuriantly ; the 
third year it bore immensely large berries — twice the size 
of those of the parent vine. From this cultivated vine he 
took three slips — one he grafted on a red Hamburgh^one 
on a white Chasselas, and one on an Isabella. The grafts 
lie says took finely, and he expected great results, for he 
was at that time ignorant of the fact, that the stem of the 
vine did not impart any of its own peculiar nature and 
character to the graft. 

The fox-grape grafted on the red Hamburgh, grew ten 
feet the first summer ; the one on the Chasselas dwindled 
and died before the summer was over ; the one on the Isa- 



♦ ^ 



•36 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

bella grew twenty-one feet ! The second year they boti. 
bore grapes. The one grafted on the red Hamburgh had a 
few small bunches, with large berries ; the one grafted on 
The Isabella had a dozen fine full bunches, with berries the 
s^ze of the original wild grape, but neither of them had 
lost any of the foa^taste, or .,tB^ tough' astringent pulp. 

It has been several times proposed ro graft fine imported 
grapes on native stocks. Many persons have tried the 
plan, but have reaped no benefit. The common fox-grape, 
hardy as it is, imparts none of its hardiness to the foreign 
grape which is grafted on it. If it be a black Hamburgh, 
or a Malaga grape, the mildew and red rot \\all attack it 
quite as soon, and as unresistingly, as if it grew on it? 
own stock. This proves, beyond a doubt, that the sap- 
vessels transmit the sap to the different parts of a plant, in 
proportion as the parts are adapted to receive it. If a white 
Frontignac be engrafted on a common fox-grape, the roots 
do not separate the aliment wliich is presented to them, so 
as to suit the nature and wants of the two kinds of grapes 
The nutriment rises with the sap, and each part of the 
different grapes abstracts from the rising fluid such por- 
tion of it as is adapted to its use. It is therefore in the 
organic structure of the plant that we must look for thf 
cause of the phenomenon. 

We are told that after submitting any section of a plant 
to the different chymical analyses, every part of it can. 
be reduced or altered, or made to disappear, excepting that 
portion which is called fibrine, which, when all the other 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 37 

parts have been abstracted, is the residuum. It is perhaps 
owing to the peculiarity of this fibrine that the difference 
in plants is so perceptible ; and that although a very inti- 
mate connexion may take place between two plants by 
means of budding or grafting, yet no further union can oc- 
cur than what is seen in the regular continuity of sap ves- 
sels. The bud which we insert, however, only adheres by 
a glutinous Hgament, which unites the under part of the 
bark of the bud to the wood of the limb in which it is 
inserted. 

But a crowd of matter rushes upon me at once, and you 
are in danger of having a long treatise on the physiology 
of plants before you are ready to hear it. I must there- 
fore for the present turn to the practical part of my sub- 
ject, and tell you that if you set a good cutting of two feet 
length in the place where you intend that a grape shall 
grow, it will take root and thrive better, and bear sooner, 
than if you plant a single eye, or even if you put a rooted 
yearling there. A good cutting is that which is taken 
from the vine nearest to the stem. It should in all cases 
be two feet long, as the droughts of summer and the frosts 
of winter are very hard on rootless plants. The branch of 
a very thrifty vine, which is three or four years old, will 
often grow to the length of fifteen feet. I have at this 
moment the branch of a red Muscadel, which is twenty feet 
long, the growth of one year ; and yet, healthy as the 
\ine is from which I intend to cut this branch, I shall not 
take more than two cuttings from it, and those I shall get 

4 



38 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

from the part which was attached to the vine. All above 
these are good for notliing, as the wood does not come to 
sufficient matmity. Mr. Thorn says that nursery men are 
not aware of this circumstance, and therefore often lose a 
great many yearling grape-vines in consequence of laying 
down cuttings of unripe wood. I have so many sensible 
practical men arotmd me, that I shall be greatly benefited ; 
and I shall not have to gather knowledge by years of tedious 
experiment, as each one here contributes to the Igene- 
ral stock of information. 

A whole community is enriched by the skill and energy 
of a smgle individual, although this community be the last 
to understand and acknowledge it. I was very much 
amused with the description of the " trials" which one or 
two of my neighbours underwent when they first settled 
here ; and I imagine that if we were to inquire, we should 
find the same thing occurring wherever ignorance prevails. 
Dr. Bentley was called a " gimcrack" because he intro- 
duced the true method of cultivating strawberries. Every 
man had a peculiarly cunning and wise look whenever he 
appeared : he was generally accosted with some such wit- 
ticism as this — " Well, Doctor, how goes on the loves of 
the plants ? — Any weddings among the strawbemes ?" &c. 
Any other than a good-natured, benevolent person would 
keep aloof fi'om the vulgar minds of his neighbours, and 
let them eat sour, wild strawberries to the end of the chap- 
ter ; but a genuine horticulturist, as his knowledge ex- 
pands, grows above the narrow feelings which always ac- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 39 

company ignorance ; and accordingly the good Doctor, 
after a little chafing and fretting, succeeded in diffusing his 
knowledge throughout the village. That he gets no cre- 
dit for it is to be expected from selfish minds ; but he has 
the satisfaction of knowing that he has done good, and 
this is quite sufficient. 

I was in the tillage of Moreland the other day, and a 
Mr. Pell, who owns a neat little establishment at the end 
of the long street, begged me to come in and look at his 
fine strawberry beds. I did so, and found them managed 
according to art. I complimented him on their thrifty ap- 
pearance, and observed that it was an uncommon thing to 
see strawberries cultivated with such care in a \illage 
where horticulture was so little known. He smiled very 
complacently, and said that it was a pleasure to show such 
things to a good judge. Still I heard nothing of Dr. Bent- 
ley. I then asked him if the neighbours followed his ex- 
ample in raising strawberries. He said that they did, and 
that he had supplied the most of them Avdth young plants, 
and had taught them the difference between the bearing 
and barren flow^ers. Some one asked him in my hearing, 
whether the fine strawberries which Dr. Bentley had, came 
from his garden 1 " No," continued he, unblushingly, 
" we both began to cultivate the fruit much about the same 
time." 

Now this very man received all his knowledge from Dr. 
Bentley, and is stiU in the constant habit of going to him 
for new plants, of various kinds ; and yet he had not man- 
liness enough to do justice to him in so insignificant a mat' 



40 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

ter. The most astonishing part of the business is, that 
they rejoice, as they would over an enemy, if any of the 
Doctor's schemes miscarry. Amongst other improvements, 
he made a water-cart. It was a large, tight box, placed on 
cart-wheels, with a screw neck at the bottom, on which to 
fasten a hose. This water-cart, which held a hogshead of 
water, was taken to the top of his garden, and when the 
hose was fastened to it, the strawberries were watered in 
times of drought. It happened one day that one of the 
wheels came off just at the entrance of the garden, near 
which stood a gallery of green-house plants. Of course a 
great many were crushed, and some were disfigured. In- 
stead of receiving sympathy for so untoward an accident, 
he was laughed at for his " new-fangled ways ;" and it 
served for a good joke for some time. This is all very bad, 
but it is human nature. I have heard more spiteful things 
said of Dr. Bentley, than of men of very inferior character. 
It has been of service to me. I find that certain people can- 
not bear kindness in any form, and that favours shown them 
but engender evil passions. If Dr. Bentley had not been 
so communicative, and so hberal in giving away trees and 
plants, he would have been much more respected ; and, 
in fact, as it relates to himself] it would be of great 
advantage — for now his time and his spirits are nearly worn 
out, by constant applications for cuttings, grafts, slips, lay- 
ers, and roots. He is a nursery-man, without the profit. A 
man less liberal is much more respected, than our good 
Doctor ; and yet, althpugh this selfish man may be now 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 41 

and then sneered at in private, he is of greater importance 
than the other ; and if, by any accident, he docs a friendly 
act to a neighbour, it is long remembered with gratitude. 
People should not be too free in offering, for weak minds 
cannot bear it. I hinted to Dr. Bentley that he was too 
lavish of his ftivours, and that he might do more harm than 
good by il ; but he will not believe it. He says that, laugh 
as they will, still he knows that he has done them a great 
service, and this is a sufficient reward to him. When he 
first settled here, about twelve years ago, there were no 
vegetables for sale in the market-house, nor could any be 
purchased from private gardens, nor were there any grafted 
fruit trees within a dozen miles. His industry and energy 
produced a great change in a very short time ; and there 
is now no person, however humble, but has pretension to a 
knowledge of fruit and vegetables. It is well for the world, 
that there is a leading spirit every now and then rising up 
in it ; but at the same time, this leader is ''never a prophet 
in his own country." 1 can truly say, that, out of our imme- 
diate circle, I have never heard any one speak of Dr. 
Bentley, or Mr. Thorn, still less of Mr. Grant, without a 
sneer, or a cutting remark : but here, amongst ourselves, it 
is quite different. Mrs. Wells has taken great pleasure in 
acknowledging her obligations to these gentlemen. " I 
never dreamed of raising strawberries," said she, " when I 
came into this neighbourhood, for there had been such total 
failures in the country whence I came. I tried to cultivate 
them, and so did my young^ pupils, who all had little gar- 

4* 



42 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

dens; but it was soon given up as hopeless. Our kind Dr. 
Bcntleynot only gave me some fine plants,buthe has taught 
me how to manage them, so that we are now abundantly 
supplied; and all these fine grape-vines a*re from Mr. Thorn. 
Here, in this little garden, I have grapes from all parts of 
the world, and I am able to tell their names when I see 
them on the tables of my friends ; all of which I owe to that 
good-hearted, liberal Mr. Thorn." Women are always 
just and generous ; and this excellent trait of their charac- 
ter ought to make us overlook many, of what we term their 
failings and defects. 

Mrs. Wells has a beautiful little garden ; it is a lot one 
hundred feet wide, and two hundred long ; and it has been 
very judiciously laid out by this most indefatigable person, 
Mr. Grant, who has made a number of ingenious contri- 
vances to shut out the working places, such as the clothes- 
yard and bleaching-ground, ash-house, and pig-pen. Mrs. 
Wells took particular pains to tell me all this — but women, as 
I before observed, are always just. Mr. Grant had madeher 
a neat little box, containing a windlass, which looked like a 
wren's house raised on a high post. A crank, which moved on 
the outside, drew in the clothes-line, and thus kept it from 
the weather. This, Mrs. Wells said, had been a great con- 
venience and saving to her ; for it kept the ropes firom 
rotting, as they were often left out week after week ; and 
it was certainly less trouble to wind the rope up, than to 
wind it over the hand and carry it in the house. " At pre- 
sent, however," she continued, "we do not use the windlass- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 43 

box, as cotton ropes have entirely superseded those of flax 
or hemp. It has been proved, after a sufficient trial, that 
cotton-ropes will last strong and good for more than twelve 
years, although they might remain out of doors, exposed to 
the weather all that time." It was Mr. Grant who had 
made this discovery, and had begged her to make the 
trial too. 

Both of Mrs. Wells' daughters have undertaken the care 
of silkworms, and they have been very successful. Dr. 
Bentley, luckily for them, had set out a row of mulberry 
trees at the end of their lot, which, at this time, are fine, 
large trees. Raising silkworms is truly a woman's busi- 
ness and should never be taken from their hands. They 
have, at best, but very few modes of getting a livelihood, 
and whatever light occupation is suited to them we should 
cheerfully resign to their management. But I shall have 
occasion, perhaps, to dvrell more particularly on this sub- 
ject when t am discussing another branch of rural eco- 
nomy. 



44 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER VII. ^ 

I KNEW that trees of every description were very much 
injured by insects, and I knew, likewise, that the leaves of 
grape-vines were destroyed by the curculio, the vine-fret- 
ter, and the large potato-worm, but I have recently dis- 
covered that an insect lays its egg in the stem or 6orfi/ of 
the "vine itself. I asked young Hayv^^ood what he was do- 
ing, as he remained unusuall}'- long at a grape vine after he 
had trimmed it. " I am picking out a worm," said he '' that 
hes very deep in this hollow :" and on examination I saw a 
small worm, similar to the one that infests the apple and 
apricot, lying coiled up in the cavity of the stem — just be- 
low the part which had been cut off last winter. Haywood 
says it has now become quite a common thing to see the 
maggots of insects in the hollow parts of the stems of vines, 
shrubs, and bushes. 

As soon as my grapes were covered for the winter, I bu- 
ried my potatoes. Not knowing exactly how to proceed, 
I had them put in the cellar until I could learn the cus- 
tomary mode of saving them in this part of the country. 
Stephen Haywood came over according to promise, and my 
whole crop is now safely secured from frost. Almost every 
one is distinguished for some peculiar gift in which he ex- 
cels and for which he is in constant requisition. Stephen 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 45 

excels in keeping vegetables throughout the winter — in 
shooting, fishing, breaking horses, setting fences, and fatten- 
ing cattle. I never saw such a good humoured, frank, 
obliging fellow in my life ; he is active and strong, and 
seems exactly made for the life he leads. His father shook 
his head, with a serious smile, when I asked him whether 
Stephen would ever feel disposed to confine himself to the 
agricultural branch of husbandry. 

" He understands it well enough," said he, "for no young 
man within twenty miles can plough better, or, in fact, can 
sow grain equal to him ; but some how or other he relies 
so much on his brother Andrew's judgment that he never 
charges his memory with any thing. And I, too," continu- 
ed he, " am almost a cypher, now, on my own farm ; for 
Stephen does not allow me to work, and Andrew does not 
allow me to think ; so I idle away my time in mending 
tools, and reading the news. Notwithstanding all this, I 
am fully occupied, for they get me on committees, and I 
must now and then be an assessor — then I must be the 
overseer of the road, and attend to the repairs of the bridge, 
and go to the assembly. It is well for me that Andrew," 
said the proud father, with glistening eyes — " it is well for 
Hollybranch farm that there is a wise man's head on a 
youngster's shoulders, or my frequent absences would be 
the ruin of us." 

It is a delightful sight to see the strong and manly friend- 
ship which subsists between these two brothers. Andrew 
directs without impatience, and Stephen obeys as if it were 



46 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

a thing of course. I have not yet seen much of the other 
lads, although three of them are well grown and assist on 
the farm. The girls are pretty, modest young women, and 
have an excellent dairy and poultry yard. Mrs. Haywood 
sits still the greater part of the day sewing and knitting for 
the whole tribe, as good tempered and as benevolent as the 
sun. Ever since Mrs. Bentley came in the neighbourhood 
there has been a little stir — a little rivalship on the subject 
of gooseberry and currant wine. Mrs. Haywood always 
made the best in the country until Mrs. Bentley came, and 
now, somehow or other, this lady, bred in the city too, has 
brighter and finer gooseberry wine than ever was made 
since the days of Mrs. Primrose. Mrs. Haywood, looked 
and tasted, and compared, and fretted inwardly with a smil- 
ing face, at a fact which admitted of no doubt, and at last, 
long before her own family, particularly her daughter Su- 
san, would yield the palm to Mrs. Bentley, she got her 
other daughter, Faimy, to write a note and beg Mrs. Bentley 
for her receipt. After this no more was to be said, and it was 
only in a whisper, just before tea, she ventured to tell me, 
that undoubtedly Mrs. Bentley's wine was much brighter 
and more sparkling than hers, but Dr. Bentley had owned 
to her, it was from a receipt obtained from Mrs. Primrose, 
and her wine, every body knew, had a very great reputa- 
tion. That there was such a person as Mrs. Primrose, 
Mrs. Haywood had no doubt. 

But if Mrs. Bentley makes the best wine, Mrs. Hay- 
wood has the best dairy ; which circumstance is very 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 47 

obligingly acknowledged by the other lady, and this equal- 
izes matters. You can have no idea how great an interest 
I take in these simple affairs ; I am never weary of listen- 
ing to them ; and I can truly say, that if there is perfect 
goodness and happiness to be found on earth, it is in situa- 
tions and among people such as I have described. Who- 
ever has lived a week at Hollybranch must wish that he 
had been born there ; for there is enough of health, con- 
tent, and comfort, to satisfy the most anxious spirit. The 
family are in advance of every body. Only contrast their 
mode of life with that of a citizen, and see how great a 
balance will be in their favour. What a table they keep ! 
— all the product of their own farm and their own labour, 
excepting tea, coffee, and sugar. They actually have a 
well filled larder of game, poultry, and choice meats ; and 
go there when you will, either alone or with a dozen 
friends, you are always welcome, and will always find 
plenty. 

In speaking one day of the improvidence of certain 
small farmers, and of the ease with which a different sys- 
tem might be pursued, Mr. Haywood acknowledged him- 
self much indebted to his wife for the flourishing state of 
his household. How few men would make such an ac- 
knowledgment ! " She set out," said Mr. Haywood, " \vith 
a determination to have every thing ready in time ; and 
how she has contrived it, with so many drawbacks upon 
her time, her health, and her spirits, as the birth and care of 
so large a family has occasioned, I cannot tell ; but I have 



48 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

never wanted any thing that a reasonable man could de- 
sire, without finding it ready for me. Breakfast, dinner, 
and supper, always in time and palatable — always some- 
thing in the pantry to go to when called from home before 
meal hours — always plenty of clean shirts and whole 
stockings, and an abundance of napkins. Do my dear,'" 
continued the grateful husband, *' do show our friend your 
pantries, and your store-rooms, and your wardrobes." Mrs. 
Haywood resisted for some httle time ; but at length she 
consented, and we sallied out together ; Mr. Haywood fol- 
lowing his wife, and often preventing me from seeing what 
he was so anxious for me to look at, from the very great 
pleasure he took in looking at the things himself 

In the first place the pantry was a curiosity ; the china, 
glass, and crockery, were all arranged in the neatest man- 
ner 5 and although the greater part was in use every day, 
yet there was no confusion. Then such quantities of 
spices and essences, and such a variety of little, odd, useful 
notions — bottle-cleaners — nut-crackers and nut-pickers — 
whip-syllabub churn — cake-dishes and moulds — in short, 
every little convenient thing was there, and in its place. 
Two or three baskets hung up, shaped like fishing baskets^ 
filled with clothes-pins, buttons, knitting-needles, &c. In 
a drawer lay some snow-white homespmi table-cloths and 
napkins, and against the wall hung a rolling towel, along, 
side of which was a marble basin, with two cocks over it, 
the one for hot and the other for cold water ; and on look- 
ing in the basin, I saw that there was a plug to let the wa- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 49 

ter run out at pleasure. This u^as indeed the perfection of 
housekeeping, and my praises were no more than was ex- 
pected. " But we must thank Mr. Grant for the basin," 
said Mrs. Haywood, " and for putting us in the way of get- 
ting the water into the pantry so nicely." " He was a long 
time trjdng to persuade us to do it, but I was afraid of the 
expense, and more than that, of the mortification of a fail- 
ure," said Mr. Haywood ; " for these new fashioned ways 
do not always succeed, and then one is laughed at. But 
Mr. Grant came here one day in his little wagon with this 
basin ; and so, after that, we could do no less than have it 
put in that comer. Instead of being laughed at, as I feared, 
all my neighbours are getting a contrivance like this too." 
" It saves a great deal of time, and is of more use 
than what you now see ; for look here," said Mrs. Hay- 
wood, opening a closet door which led to an out-house, 
where stood a wash-bench, with two large pewter basins 
on it, and two rolling towels over them. The same pipes 
of hot and cold water had cocks here, too, and by the side 
of each basin was a little pewter plate, with a piece of 
brown soap in it. "It is just as easy for my boys to be 
clean as dirty," said the good lady ; " and now, while we 
are out of doors, we will step into the dairy — you w\\\ find 
our friends the water-pipes there too, for luckily my hus- 
band let me have my own way about the dairy, and I had 
it built adjoining the kitchen. It is the most expensive 
thing I have about me, but it has paid for itself over and 
over again." 

5 



50 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

Into the dairy we went, the delighted husband, as usual, 
getting the fii'st look at every thing, and there in a corner, 
nearly sinking with confusion, stood their daughter Susan, 
with a clean, snow white apron on, which nearly covered her 
whole drels, and a neat mob cap on her head, which con- 
fined the whole of her hair. 

"Susy, fooHsh girl, what ails you?" said Mrs. Hay- 
wood, " are you ashamed to let Mr. Allen see you, with a 
close cap and a dairy apron on 1 He has come in to see 
how neat you keep your milk-pans and your butter-trays." 
Every thing was as clean as possible, and, what I never 
perceived before, the room had a remarkably pleasant smell, 
such as the finest butter has. All the dairies that I had ever 
seen before had a damp, sour, stale perfume about them, 
and left no agreeable impression on the mind ; for my part 
I had an idea that this sour milk smell was unavoidable. 
I made this remark to Mrs. Haywood, and she acknow- 
ledged that it was too often the case. " Ours was not 
so complete as it now is, was it Susy, dear, until we 
had boiling water in such abundance," and in order to 
do justice to Mr. Grant, Susan lost her bashfulness, and 
went round the room showing me how she managed to 
keep every thing so delightfullj^ clean ; and above all, she 
dwelt on the churns — made to move by riachinery turned 
by dogs ! "And is this Mr. Grant's work, too?" "Yes," said 
Susan, "he made it, and brother Stephen broke the dogs to 
the business, which they are now as fond of as a pointer i? 
of following his master when shooting. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 51 

"To my notion," said Mr. Haywood, "if dogs must be kept 
on a farm, they ought to be made to work as well as horses 
and oxen. At first I thought it a hard thing for the poor 
dogs, but in a little time I came about to Mr. Grant's opi- 
nion, and I now believe it to be as great a pleasure for 
Battle and Brawler, my two dogs, to turn the crank as it 
is for any of my boys to ride a horse, or run a race." 
* "And as to Susan's wearing a cap," added Mrs, Hay- 
wood, " that is a fashion I have taught her. I never could 
bear to see a dairy maid with her hair Ajn^ng about, a single 
stray hair, finding its way into a roll of butter, would ruin 
the reputation of a dairy — it would be remembered and 
gossipped about for a whole generation — but here we are 
standing all this time, and we have other things to see." 
" If you have any curiosity to see the dogs churn, Mr. Al- 
len," said Susan — having recovered from the confusion of 
being caught in a close muslin cap- — " you can come over 
any morning at sunrise, as I generally churn at that hoar 
during this season of the year." 

We went next into a noble pantry, or rather store-roorn, 
filled wdth preserves and pickles, cheese, cakes, and eatables 
of all sorts — in fact there was abundance throughout, and 
all so conveniently placed, so clean and so fresh, that I was 
tempted to eat slice after shce of the cold tongue and tur- 
key, and pumpkin-pies ; nor could I resist the** pressing in- 
treaties to eat " only one piece of plum-cake, and then 
just to taste the gooseberry- wine." A dark room on the 
north side was lined with hams, tongues, and fowls, " all 



52 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

washed," as Mrs. Haywood observed, " with an acid made 
from wood, and which was to prevent the flies from injuring 
the smoked meats" — pjnroligneous acid. The fruit-room 
was next, and there were stored winter pippins, pears, and 
nuts. In short, there was plenty every where and no 
waste. 

" You have seen enough for one day," said Mr. Hay- 
wood ; " when you come again, my wife must show you 
her stores of homespun linen, and her fine woollen blan- 
kets, not forgetting her stocking closet, which is as curious 
a sight as ever you saw, for there are several pair of stout 
legs to cover with summer and winter stockings, and I am 
sure that each of them have a full dozen ; besides, there are 
those which belong to my wife and the girls, but they are 
in their own drawers, I presume, as I never get a sight of 
them." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



53 



LETTER VIII. 

I FIND it is the practice here, among the best farmers, to 
have their potato holes on the edge of a slope. This allows 
the rains and melted snow to run off without getting through 
the covering to injure the potatoes. They dig a pit suffi- 
ciently large to hold a certain number of bushels — if for sale 
in the spring, fifty bushels, if for home use, about twelve or 
fifteen bushels are put in separate holes. Straw is laid at 
the bottom and at the sides, and then the potatoes are put 
in the hole. They are left for a day or two wdth no cover- 
ing but straw, that the external dampness may evaporate, 
and then ihej are entirely covered with the earth taken 
from the hole — a gutter is cut around the whole, ending at 
the edge, that the rains may run off. 

I have been very much amused with the variety of opi- 
nions respecting the best kinds of potatoes. Among those 
w^hose tastes are the most cultivated, I find that two parti- 
cular kinds stand as number one and two. The Mercer, as 
it is called, is a half mealy potato, of fine flavour, and of good 
consistence. It has never a rank taste, even when eaten in 
June, at the time when new potatoes make their appear- 
ance. Perhaps it has more good qualities united, than any 
other vegetable of the kind, for it is an abundant bearer, and, 

unless other seed is suffered to grow in the same field, it 

5* 



I 



I 



54 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

does not degenerate. Neither Dr. Bentley nor Mr. Thorn 
ever raise any other, and both these gentlemen assure me 
that they have had no other potato for eight years, and 
that no change has taken place either in size, flavour, or 
quantity. 

The number two, is the Foxite. This is, likewise, an ex- 
cellent potato — more mealy than the Mercer, but not keep- 
ing so fresh in the spring, although it does not acquire a 
strong taste. It is not an abundant bearer, and does not 
bear the droughts of summer so well as number one. It is 
never large, and it is of a more uniform size than most pota- 
toes. Mr. Haywood, although agreeing in giving the pre- 
ference to the Mercer, cultivates the Foxite, because they 
are a more popular potato — they sell better in the market. 

The Foxite is a tasteless potato. I do not mean by this 
that it is distinguished as merely wanting the strong taste 
which the common run of potatoes generally have, but as 
having no taste or flavour at all. Now a potato ought 
to taste like a potato, or else it is of no value as such : 
every vegetable has its own peculiar flavour, and it is held 
in esteem as that peculiarity predominates. I, myself, give 
the preference to the Mercers, for they unite all that makes 
this vegetable so desirable. 

The best way to prepare them for the table, is to mash 
them as soon as they are thoroughly done, adding a little 
milk and salt to make the mash of the proper consistence. I 
am told that butter, in our neighbourhood, is never put m 
mashed potatoes, as it makes them sodden and heavy. 



A 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



55 



There is a potato here that is planted by most of the 
common farmers — it is called the English white ; when 
boiled, it assumes a yellow hue, and is never good. It is 
an abundant bearer, and yields more than any other, ex- 
cepting the one called the Merino, or long potato — but it 
is only the common farmers who plant it. The best judges 
in our vicinity cut the lower half of their potatoes off and 
give it to their pigs. The upper part is by far the most 
suitable for planting, as the shoots from the eyes are strong 
and vigorous, and are more prolific than those which pro- 
ceed from the lower part. 

There are several modes of planting potatoes, but there 
can be no doubt that planting them in hills is the most 
advantageous, for less labour is necessary to keep them 
clear of weeds, not to mention the benefit of having 
the earth stirred all around them. I could not see any 
difference, either in the growth or quality of those that 
were dropped ort*the manure, or those that had the ma- 
nure dropped on them : but in all cases those potatoes stood 
the drought best that were cut in suitable pieces, and rolled 
in plaster of Paris, at least a week before they were planted. 
If it is a moist season it will increase the size of the potato 
to pull off the blossoms as soon as they appear, as the- 
whole effort of the plant is to perfect the seed which the 
blossoms produce. 

Notwithstanding that potatoes are brought to the table- 
every day, and that so much has been said about the pro- 
per mode of cooking them, it is but seldom that they are 
Hi to be eaten. Even in London, where the art of cookery 



b 



^6 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

is at its height, this vegetable is scarcely ever properly pre- 
pared for the table. In gentlemen's houses here, particu- 
larly in the country, great attention is paid to the mode of 
cooking the potato. Mrs. Bentley, who is an excellent 
cook, says that they should always be put on the fire in 
cold water, with a handful of salt, and that the moment 
they are done the water should be thrown off; and if they 
are to be mashed, that it should be done while the pot stands 
on some hot coals, and that nothing must be added but a 
little milk — that the dish should be hot into which they are 
turned, and that no spoon or ladle should smoth over the 
broken appearance of the mash, nor should they ever be 
browned. As James is so fond of potatoes, and Clara is so 
good a wife, I am sure that this mode of cooking the vege- 
table will be adopted by her. 

You lay particular stress on the subject of labourers 
and servants. My own personal experience, you know, is 
not much, but I have been very observaift and inquisitive ; 
and I have housekeepers and farmers of all grades around 
me, who are all more or less dependent on others ; and it is 
often the theme of conversation. I have, in the first place, 
a black man, who has the entire charge of the horses. He 
goes to the mill; on errands that require horse and wagon • 
drives to church ; in fact, he uses the horses altogether. He 
is my farmer, likewise : he is a first rate ploughman ; and 
what requires some cleverness, he sows grain admirably 
well. He is " handy," too, with tools ; he can fish and 
shoot ; is the best hand at a squirrel hunt : knows how to 



A 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 57 

thrash a tree for hickory and chestnuts ; can fell trees ; 
load a wagon ; pile wood ; and is wise about the weather, 
and animals ; in short, an American negro is one of the 
most useful of human beings ; one can scarcely name a 
thing that he cannot do : — turn a negro in the kitchen in a 
hurry, when you have company unexpectedly, and you will 
havtj a savoury mess in a trice : you apply to him in every 
little emergency, on a farm ; he is full of expedients, and 
can always find a lost tool, or recollect who borrowed it,. 
quicker than any one else : he finds his way to distant 
places ; is a good guide in the dark ; will leave his warm 
bed at any moment, either to call a doctor; to take care of 
the horse of a newly-arrived friend, or to go on a sleighing 
frolic : he will eat his dinner on his lap, or on a table ; either 
eat fat pork, and cold buckwheat cakes, instead of bread, 
or roast turkey and wheat bread ; he will drink three drams 
a day, if you offer it to him, or he will drink water, without 
murmuring : he makes fires for the cook, and lifts all the 
heavy articles ; and in short, all the coarse, rough, heavy, 
hard, difficult things, fall to his share ; and he scarcely ever 
disappoints you. These excellent and peculiar qualities 
are not uncommon ; but we are so ungrateful, or so accus- 
tomed to it, that a poor negro is no more valued for this 
extraordinary versatiHty of genius, than if he only excelled 
in one particular thing. My Peter is just such as I 
have described ; and T do not know a man in my neigh- 
bourhood who has not one equally valuable, excepting that 
one of them may have a disposition to pilfer, another ta 



58 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

drink, and a, third to run about at night ; but let their moral 
capacity be what it may — and I have seen quite as much 
of -virtue and goodness amongst them as with the whites — 
their ingenuity, good nature, and civility, are common to 
them all. 

My second man is an Irishman. He is- excellent with 
the spade, and in the garden, and with the wheelbarrow. 
He is faithful at any thing that he can do vv^ell : and I 
generally give him the most simple things to do. An 
Irishman works hard, and well, and for a length of time, but 
an American would tire to death at the monotony which 
is so indifferent to an Irishman. A neo^ro would soon o^row 
weary of quarrying stones, or of digging a trench, or a well, 
or in paving ; but an Irishman would as lief stay a year 
pounding at a pestle and mortar, as at any changeable 
occupation. 

I have never yet seen a good American gardener — that is, 
a working gardener ; but I have no doubt that there will be 
enough of them in time. I have conversed with my neigh- 
bours on this topic, and they say that there has been but 
little chance, hitherto, for an American to learn the art. As 
soon as a gentleman purchases a country-seat, he naturally 
looks around for a gardener. A Scotchman or an English 
man is immediately at hand, and he takes one or the other. 
While they come over in such numbers, how is it possible 
to get an American taught. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



59 



LETTER IX 

It rained incessantly all this day, and there has been as 
much of labour and activity as if the day were fair. Peter 
has been repairing flails, and grinding sundry axes, hatch- 
ets, drawing-knives, and spades, all lying by for a rainy 
day. I have a young lad of fifteen, a white American ; 
such a boy is one of the most useful persons on a farm, 
often doing men's work, and often employed in matters in 
which a man would be unwilling to act. A farm is a dull 
affair, without the presence of one of these little lighthearted 
imps to enhven it, • He keeps both master and men on the 
alert, and seems never to know what fatigue is. For my 
part, knowing how dull and heavy to move, an Enghsh 
boy is, of this one's age, I was perfectly amazed at the apti- 
tude and cleverness of those in this country. You can 
send a boy of ten years of age on a difficult errand, eight 
or ten miles off, on horseback too, and he will acquit him- 
self well. They have a remarkable quick eye and ear ; 
they can tell a horse, by his gait, or his points, as quickly 
as a jockey can ; and they will recollect him, although 
eight or ten years may intervene. 

My boy Sam was at every body's beck to-day. H^ 
turned the grindstone ; and was as knowing about the et/g-e 
of the tools as Peter himself; and whenever he had a 



60 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

chance, he had a separate work of his own, which he is very 
expert at — this is making mats for the feet, either with corn- 
stalks or straw. Dennis, the Irishman, has been all day at the 
monotonous work of shelling beans and peas, for seed. He 
does not yet understand the mode of thrashing them out 
with a flail, and Peter has had no time to assist him ; so he 
went through the tedious drudgery with his fingers. It is 
really amusing to see an Irishman thrash with flails, or use 
a pickaxe, or to chop wood. They strike ten times harder 
than they need do, and tire themselves in a short time ; and 
yet they have no idea that they do not do their work as 
well as the Americans. As far as my observation goes, 
they want mechanical ingenuity : they are full of expedi- 
ents, but this, you know, is not ingenuity. Very few make 
this distinction. 

We are really grateful for a rainy day in the country, for 
while the sun shines we are very busy out doors with the 
plough and spade, and in preparing for v/inter. In conse- 
quence, a number of little, and yet very important matters, 
are left to accumulate until a rain drives us under shelter. 
Three days of incessant rain have brought us up again, 
and now there stands a goodly row of sharp tools, sound 
rakes and mallets, as well as some well-shaped axe and 
hammer handles. If it be a clear day to-morrow, we are 
to kill our hogs — six fine ones of the no-bone breed, 
and only eight months old. Peter acts as master of the 
ceremonies, and has invited his neighbour, Brom, to assist 
us, promising in turn to go over to him when he is ready. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 61 

Brom is Dr. Bentley's man. My little Sam is as knowing 
at it as his elders ; and poor Dermis, as is the case with all 
that occurs, is giving his opinion with great fluency, but 
really knowing nothing of the matter. 

Peter came to me last evening to unb\U'then himself. 
■* I do not wish to injure the man. Master, but he will cer- 
tainly make all go wrong. He killed his own pig at his 
own house last week, and such a poor disfigured thing I 
never saw. He has left half of the bristles on, and it 
hung all lopsided for the want of a gamble." " A gam- 
ble, Peter, what is that ? I fancy that I am no wiser my- 
self than Dennis, on the subject of gambles." " Why a 
gamble. Master, is a piece of stick, sharpened at both ends, 
to keep the feet of the hogs spread out. But cannot you 
set him at work at something else ? Has Master no more 
beans and peas to shell ?" said the black, grinning. 

We had a fine day yesterday, and by ten o'clock the 
pigs were hung up, well cleaned and dressed. I so ma- 
naged it as that Dennis kept the water boiling, and he sup- 
plied the men with it very plentifully. There is a great 
art in cleaning hogs ; no doubt, the Irish have fine pork, 
and know when it has been well dressed ; but certain it is, 
that I have never seen an Irishman that could prepare a 
hog fit to be seen. I was speaking about it to Dr. Bent- 
ley ; he says that very few, if any, clever, ingenious men, 
among the lower classes, ever come to this country ; that 
their modes of agriculture are very diflferent from ours, 
which makes them have the appearance of awkwardness. 
But there is no mistake about the manner of planting and 

6 



62 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

digging potatoes — there they show their skill and their 
speed. But where they are most deficient is in the ma- 
iiagement of horses, and in the diseases of cattle. 

The greatest ambition in an Irishman is to drive a pair 
of horses, or in any way to get on a horse ; but as he be- 
gins too late in life, he never succeeds in being a tolerable 
horseman, Americans are the most expert in this matter, 
because they are put on a horse's back before they are ten 
years old. The boys take him to be shod, to the mill, to the 
water, saddle him, and, in short, all the easy part of grooming 
falls to their share, and dehghted they are to do it. An Ame- 
rican will get a loaded team out of difficulty, for instance, 
when they get into a rut, or slip down a hill, or overturn ; 
they have excellent judgment, and are always collected 
on such occasions ; but I shall scarcely be credited here for 
the remark, certainly I shall get no thanks from the com- 
mon white population, when I say that the negroes are the 
best horsemen in the country. They are, too, better skilled 
in the diseases of horses and cows ; and in fact, whenever 
stability or speed is required, they are always the persons 
on whom we depend. No man can set a fence, or hole 
posts, or fell trees, or load a wagon, or husk com, as well 
as a negro. Besides all this, they are better bred, and 
have better manners, than the whites of their own rank. 
Let any one make the comparison between the black and 
the white servants on a farm, and it uill be readily acknow- 
ledged, that as it respects quickness of apprehension, accu- 
racy, speed of motion, and downright politeness, the black 
domestics are superior to the white. Neither are they in- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 63 

ferior in morals, when we take into consideration the de- 
basement of mind consequent on slavery. 

I once asked a very intelligent lady, who was one of the 
principals in a Sunday school ; which class of children 
learned to read the soonest. She said that there was no 
difference ; a black and a white child of the same age, and 
commencing equally ignorant of the alphabet, would learn 
to read in the same time, that is, on the average; for some- 
times the black and sometimes the white child would read 
first. That they stop short, is because they are depressed 
as they rise to manhood — ^but this is a subject in which you 
cannot have much interest, nor does it become us, as Eng- 
lishmen, to discuss this topic, as in the present state of 
negro slavery, it is not possible to allow of equal preten- 
sions in the negro. There is not a man here who does not 
regret the circumstance, but not one of the schemes for the 
relief of the negroes is adequate to meet the evil. No one 
detested the principle mor6 than Washington, and yet his 
judgment and his feelings prevented him from liberating 
his slaves during his life. He knew that even if the slave- 
holders were unanimous in emancipating the negroes, 
it would be a worse evil than to keep them in bondage ; he 
could not, as the chief of a nation, do that on a small scale 
which would be of so disastrous a consequence in the gross ; 
however, he made provision for the liberation of his slaves, 
after his death, when he could do it without its becoming 
an injurious precedent. If he had done it before, it would 
have been a tacit reproach to those who owned slaves, but 
it was a thing of common occurrence to liberate negroes 



64 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

after the master's death. Daniel O'Connell never made so 
great a mistake as to endeavour to fasten a reproach on 
the memory of Washington. It showed so much igno- 
rance of the state of slavery in this coimtry, and igno- 
rance of the true policy of the great statesman who then 
stood so deservedly at the head of the nation, that he has 
lost a great deal in the estimation of the American people 
O'Connell makes a very intemperate use of his newly re- 
covered freedom — he is vulgar and hasty, and wants tacf. 
a want which implies such absolute povertyin essentials, tha.t 
his popularity here is not so great as it was. The Irish 
who are in this country, knowing our feelings with regard 
to a man so venerated as Washington, are very much mor- 
tified at this indiscreet attack on him 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 



65 




LETTER X. ^ 

You see how Ihave been led astray from the main pur- 
pose of our correspondence ; a thing that I do not intend to 
do often, for such discussions are without benefit. I shall 
have greater pleasure in introducing you to one of the 
gentlemen who were at Mrs. Wells' little tea party. 1 
mentioned him to you at the time, Mr. Parr. He paid me 
a visit this morning, and although he is a grave and some- 
what a shy man, yet he is exceedingly interesting. He 
has purchased an estate adjoining Oak Valley, the farm that 
I told you belonged to a Mr. Webb. You will be delighted 
with Mr. Parr, he is so new and so fresh, both as it respects 
mankind and what relates to the whole of the vegetable 
economy. His heart is constantly overflowing with gra 
titude, pleasure, and wonder — every thing that he sees, 
hears, or touches, is food for speculation — he raises up 
his eyes to the top of the branches of a magnificent tree, 
with devotion, and touches the body reverently, with his 
hand, and nothing on earth could tempt him to cut off a 
branch, much less tothurst a knife into the bark, as idlers do, 
out of mere wantonness. I, myself, have a great affection 
for a tree, and woulii never stand by and see it mutilated or 

6* 



66 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

disfigured, but then I know that it must be pruned and 
scraped, and that it is often to be severely handled. 

Mr. Parr was originally a printer, but on coming into 
possession of a large estate, left him by an uncle in Scot- 
land, he determined to settle in the country. His wife. 
who is his idol, is a very pleasant, even-tempered woman, 
of excellent sense and strongly attached to her husband. 
Dr. Bentley went to England about four years ago, to 
biing his wife's niece to this country — on his return he 
came in the same ship with Mr. Parr and his wife, who 
had been in Scotland to settle the estate. The doctor, 
soon conquered Mr. Parr's shyness, and finally prevailed 
on him to settle in our neighbourhood. I view Mr. Parr 
with alm.ost the same feelings that he does a tree, and I 
observe that he excites an extraordinary interest whenever 
he appears. He goes often to Lee Cottage to see old Mrs 
Bell and her grand-daughter — by the way I have never 
yet seen the young lady — and Mrs. Bentley thinks that these 
frequent visits of Mr. Parr will end in some good to the 
fair orphan. There must be a mystery attached to the 
young lady, but I am ashamed to say that I have no turn 
for such things, and my female friends think I am without 
that almost necessary quality, curiosity. 

There are so many really fine young women within our 
circle, that I experience what the French call Vemharras 
de richesse. I am half inclined to pay my court to Miss 
Sidney, the niece of Mrs. Bentley ; but then there is the 
drawback of her not likinff America. I never saw a more 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 67 

blooming and sweet tempered girl than Miss Webb ; but 
there is the drawback of her parents' being so very dimi- 
nutive, that I should never feel a sufficient respect for them 
Both of Mrs. Wells's daughters have admirers ; bjit as 
they are respectable young men, and neighbours, I do not 
like to cut in upon them. Even Mr. Thorn's sister, Emily 
Forbes, would be an ehgible match for a solitary indi- 
vidual like myself; but I fear to venture, as she is a great 
fortune, and her guardian, old Mr. Root, is so suspicious of 
a male visiter, that it would be too great an undertaking 
to overcome his prejudices. So you see that although there 
are no formidable reasons why I might not address any 
one of these young ladies, yet I have thus far kept my 
heart whole. I certainly catch myself going more fre- 
quently to West Hill than elsewhere ; but that may arise 
from my fondness for the Doctor's society. Mrs. Bentley 
thinks I am quite as well off as if I were married — / do 
not think so, for there are moments when I feel that loneli- 
ness of heart which nothing can overcome ; neither books 
nor business can console me at such times ; and to such a 
pitch of misery was I assailed by it one evening last week, 
that I put on my hat, resolutely determined to walk over to 
West Hill, and fall in love with Charlotte Sidney. Almost 
the first words that I heard after the bustle created by my 
entrance was over, were these — they were said to a young 
gentleman who had spent the day there — " No, Mr. Brad- 
leigh, I never will marry an American, because I intend to 
end my days in England. I love my uncle and aunt, but 



68 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

I love my country too, and I must return there. I am de- 
termined, therefore, never to marry an American." 

Although I am not an American, yet I intend to settle 
here,^which amounts to the same thing. I certainly would 
not marry a woman who disliked the country I hved in. 

My love fit cooled off, and I laughed at myself next 
morning for my simplicity. And yet it is a cheerless thing 
to sit alone, evening after evening, and it is also a wild ajid 
misettled way of hving, to be for ever at your neighbours' 
house in quest of society. 

Clara will laugh at all this, although she will pity me 
when she understands that I am a little incommoded by it 
James will sigh, and wish that there was another Clara for 
me ; and you, my dear cousin, will say that I am well 
enough off as I am, with the prospect of having you with 
me in another year. In truth, that thought does console 
me ; for after all, it may be that it is as much homesick, 
ness, that makes me feel lonely, as any thing else. I will 
go into the parlour and regale myself with my tea and sau- 
sages — made by as tidy a person — black though she be — 
as any you have in England. 

Dinah is a grave, elderly woman ; she thinks she is 
fifty, but I. am much deceived if she be not sixty. 
fShe has been taught to read in that best of all charities, 
the Sunday school, and I have had her instructed 
in writing. She has a great deal of leisure, and she 
has fairly accomplished in six months what we sup- 
posed would require at least a yea.v. I have a suspicion 
that some one of the ladies in the neighbourhood gives her 
private lessons in writing, for I see her come home every 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 69 

afternoon with a little portfolio in her hand, after an absence 
of half an hour. She is very taciturn, but no way mo 
rose, and has always a smile on her face when I meet her. 
I gave her a pocket handkerchief to hem the other day, 
and as far as I can judge, she sewed it quite as well as a 
seamstress. I really have been fortunate with my domes- 
tics, for they give me no vexation or trouble. 

I had the cabbages taken up this morning, and buried 
one half of them in a trench, upside down, and the other 
half I laid closely together on the side of a hill, near my 
potato mounds. Stephen Haywood says that cabbages, 
particularly Savoys, will keep fresh and green all winter in 
this latter mode, if the winter is uniformly cold, and the 
ground is covered with snow. As I have a great many, 1 
will make the trial ; all the rest of the vegetables are in 
the cellar, packed in loose earth up in one corner, and kept 
together by a broad enclosure. The brocoli and cauli- 
flowers are likewise in the cellar — some in boxes with a 
little earth between them, roots down — and about a dozen 
hung up, by the roots, from the ceiling. I am told that 
they often flower in this way. I have not yet taken up the 
celery, as it is not sufliciently blanched. 

Dinah brought me an excellent seed-bag, made by a 
lady in the neighbourhood. It is certainly the most com- 
plete thing of the kind I ever saw ; but although it is ex- 
ceedingly simple, yet I fear that I cannot describe it, so as 
to enable you to understand it. It is square, with the open 
ing at one of the corners. The opening has strings run 
through it. The strings are of flat bobbin, which draw 



70 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

after the manner of ladies' work-bags. The two loops that 
this makes serve to suspend the bag from a nail, where it 
hangs in the form of a diamond. I have had a number of 
them made for large and small seeds ; and nothing can 
have a neater appearance than these bags, well filled, hang- 
ing up out of the way of careless people, and of rats and 
mice. Seed-bags have always been very troublesome. It 
takes up a great deal of time to tie and untie them ; and 
then, unless you are very careful, they tilt over, and the 
seed rolls down on the floor : besides, very few persons like 
the trouble of tying a bag, after they have taken out what 
they want ; and very often, if the string gets in a knot, it is 
cut open, and the bag of seed never again gets closed. With 
this new bag the case is different ; after you have taken 
out the seed that is wanted, the strings have only to be 
drawn, and the bag can be thrown down without danger of 
spilHng the contents. 

All this must sound very small to you ; but if you are 
to live in the country, the more you simplify your work and 
economize your time, the happier you will find yourself 
These bags are a very great saving of time. I have had a. 
little tin funnel made, for putting in the seed, such a one as 
the seedsmen use. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 71 



LETTERXI ^ 

jMr. Grant, Stephen Haywooa, and I, went out this' 
morning with our guns, accompanied by a younger brother 
of Haywood, and my Sam. We had fine pointers ; and I 
gave orders for a late dinner. Mr. Grant came, out of 
courtesy, I imagine, for he is not fond of the sport ; but he 
was of great service in the end, for both Stephen and my- 
self being good shots, and there being plenty of game, we 
liad occasion to rejoice that he had a ready loaded gun to 
offer us. In fact, we kept him loading our guns the whole 
-lay, as the two boys, by degrees, stole off by themselves ; 
and we judged that they had good sport, too, for we heard 
their pieces cracking away at the distance of a mile from 
us. By four o'clock, we were on our way home, with thirty 
brace of quails and six rabbits. We found the two boys at 
home, cleaning their guns. They showed us, with great 
triumph, twelve brace of quails and eight rabbits : — only 
think what excellent shots these boys must be ; English 
Hoys have no chance of becoming so expert. 

We divided our birds, reserving enough for breakfast, as 
)ny friends were to spend the night with me, excepting 
Stephen's brother, who crossed the river with Sam in a little 
row-boat ; and while we rested ourselves on the porch, we 
watched the steady oars of the young boatmen, who pulled 
away with as much vigour as if they had been at rest the 
whole day. 



72 OtJR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" You will tell Miss Susan," said our friend Grant 
to Edward Haywood, "that six of those birds are for 
her; and mind, Edward, give the rabbits to Hannah." 
' Oh, ho!" said I, laughing, "you are in earnest now, I find; 
you talce the right method, securing the hearts of the ser- 
vants, too. Well, Stephen," continued I, " to whom are 
you going to send your share of the rabbits?" "/am a 
free man," said he, laughing ; " only, if I had a farm of two 
hundred acres, and a good house on it, I think I should 
know how to choose a mistress for it." " What, Miss Ma- 
ria Wells, I warrant." "No, indeed; she has a lover 
already, and I am sure that brother Andrew has a fancy 
for Miss Kitty ; but, poor fellow, he is as badly off as myself] 
in point of wealth. No," continued he, blushing, " I should 
go to Oak Valley, if I dared; and, dare or not, half of my birds 
go there ; but, of course, they must go to the father and 
mother, for I must not be particular. 

It is a hopeless thing for poor Stephen, for Mrs. Webb 
intends that her daughters shall marry well, as the phrase 
is. I sent part of my game to the Doctor, part to Mrs. 
Wells, and a few to Mr. Parr, as Mr. Grant intended to give 
the greater part of his to Mr. Thorn. I reserved enough 
for a broil in the morning, giving two brace to Dinah for 
her " young mistress." The negroes in this country are 
very fond of stewed and broiled rabbits, and Peter got his 
share of ours ; for my part I cannot eat them, as they have 
so much the appearance of a cat, when dressed whole. 
We dined, or rather supped, at six o'clock, having sent to 
W^estHill for the Doctor, who came accompaniedby his wife. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 73 

niece, and a young clergyman, Mr. North. The three lat 
ter were an agreeable addition, and Dinah said it looked 
once more hke old times to wait upon ladies again. 

Moreland is not a very large village, yet it has had spirit 
enough to build a very pretty church, and to give a thou- 
sand dollars a year to a clergyman — to be sure one half of 
this sum is raised by the neighbouring gentry, and two 
hundred dollars of it is the interest of a legacy left by the 
innkeeper's father, Mr. Jameson — but still it is something 
to get even three hundred dollars a year from the inhabit- 
ants of a small and not very wealthy village. Mr. North 
is the clergyman, and a very clever addition he is to our 
society ; his manners are very cheerful and agreeable, and 
he has a great fondness for the horticultural art, which a 
clergyman living in the country should have. I asked him 
where he had learned so much of gardening, as he could 
not have had any opportunity before he received his clerical 
education. He frankly told us that necessity had taught 
him. That poor students in the theological seminary 
where he was educated, were all obliged to assist in main- 
taining themselves in some way or other, and that he soon 
became fond of raising vegetables, and of cultivating shrubs 
and flowers. 

" I intend to have the parsonage covered with roses 
and honeysuckles," said he, turning to Miss Sidney, 
who had, during this conversation, transferred Mr. North a 
peg lower in her esteem, by learning that he had been edu- 
cated gratis ; " and I mean to excel you," said he to me, 

7 



74 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" in raising celery." " And in what," said Dr. Bentley, " do 
you intend to rival me ?" " I do not know, my dear sir, 
that I can ever rival you, but I shall certainly try to equal 
you in gaining the affections and esteem of such friends as 
yours. I ask for no greater happiness on earth than to 
have the heart to do as much good to others as you have." 
Miss Sidney looked pleased at this jast compliment, and 
the Doctor observed that he had won his way to Mrs. Bent- 
ley's heart aheady, for she was giving him the very slice 
of the ham that he had that moment asked her for. 

This conversation led us, after supper, to discuss the pro- 
priety of allowing young men who have entered the minis- 
try to idle away their leisure hours, as they generally do. 
Mr. North spoke very sensibly on the subject ; he says that 
he was very early impressed with the notion that those 
clergymen who were destined to hve in villages, or in the 
country, should have a knowledge of horticulture, and 
should gain their knowledge from persona/ experience. 

He was three years in a distant settlement before he re- 
ceived the present call, and he was of the gi'eatest service 
to his congi-egation. Many of them scarcely knew how to 
raise potatoes, and there was not a grafted fruit tree to be 
seen. Knowing how destitute they were, he carried out 
with him, the first spring, about one hundred young trees, 
of his own grafting, and a quantity of fresh garden seeds, 
such as were easy of cultivation. The second spring he 
grafted agreat numberof trees for the wealthiest, or rather for 
the most provident of his people, and taught the art to seve- 
ral of the farmers themselves. By this time planting went 



OUR Neighbourhood. 75 

On very rapidlj^ ; every wild apple tree v/as transplanted^ 
and orchards were to be seen every where. He made it a 
part of his duty to impress the necessity of raising trees, 
and such was his example and his advdce, that in the third 
spring there were three thousand trees to graft ! He left 
them in the full spirit of making little gardens, and of rais- 
ing bees ; nay, some of them had got so far as to transplant 
the wood strawberry, and many of them were desirous of 
getting grape cuttings, that they might vie with a neigh- 
bouring parish, where grapes had already made their ap- 
pearance, owing to the industry and zeal of a Frenchman 
who had settled a tract of land there. Mr. North says that 
he felt as if the whole had been his work, and he could 
hardly be prevailed upon to quit the place and the people, 
but that he languished for society and for books. His sa- 
lary was two hundred dollars a year, and half of that 
w^as scarcely sufficient to pay his board. It may easily be 
imagined that, what with travelKng expenses and other 
little matters, real necessaries, he had but little to spend on 
wearing apparel. 

" I had two good suits of clothes," said he, turning 
to Miss Sidney, " and although I may have lowered 
myself in your opinion, by confessing that I was educated 
by charily, yet I must not scruple lo say, that to keep these 
two suits respectable, I was under the necessity of buying 
a suit of the coarsest homespun cloth, and a pair of shoes 
to match, which even Peter, here, would not like to wear. 
The salary that I now get will enable me to live as a cler- 



76 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

gyman should ; and my first care shall be to send my old 
parishioners a number of trees, plants, and cuttings. I left 
a very clever young man behind, who, under my tuition, is 
quite a good gardener. He will make an excellent living 
in time, for he will set up a nursery of trees there ; a thing 
which will be of the greatest benefit." We all promised to 
help him when he made up his parcel in the spring; and 
glad was I to find that this clergyman — a thing rather un- 
common — still had the good of the people, that he had left, 
at heart. 

Mr. Grant, who is a very shrewd man, asked me after- 
wards if I did not think that Mr. North saw Miss Sidney 
turn from him, when he began to speak of himself No 
doubt he did, and she was conscious that he noticed it, for 
she coloured highly when he turned and addressed her the 
second time. " I'll bet my double-barrel gun against this 
apple," said Stephen Haywood, " that Mr. North and Miss 
Sidney will be man and wife before these very apples 
(taking up a fall pippin) are ripe next year." 

"She will never marry an American," said I, "for I 
have heard her say so more than once. She means to re- 
turn to England." 

" She will — she will have this gentleman the moment he 
offers himself: I can see it in the very make of the man 
that he will succeed ; he will feel a pride in conquering her 
pride, but he will do nothing in a hurry. He will lead her 
a fine dance before he lets her know that he means to take 
her for better and for worse."' 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 77 

" Why, Stephen, you are deeper in the secrets of the 
heart than I could have imagined ; you are beforehand 
with me. I got no farther than that he was conscious oi" 
having lessened himself in the lady's opinion : but if your 
suggestion is to come to pass, there is no use in any other 
gentleman's tr}TLng his luck in that quarter." 

" Why, surely, Mr. Allen," said Stephen, looking yexy 
much astonished, " your thoughts do not run that way — 
we have — that is to say — but the truth is, you have never 
seen the beauty of Lee Cottage — and we all hoped — iii 
shor-t, Mr. Allen, all the neighbours have come to the 
opinion that none of the ladies hereabouts will suit yoa so 
well as Miss Julia Bell." 

" I am very much indebted to you all for your good- 
wishes," said I ; " and it is very probable, from the descrip- 
tion that I have had of the lady, that I should think exactly 
as you do ; but I have never yet seen her, and in all proba- 
bility it will be a long time before I shall see her." 

" Why, I see her every Sunday. She comes to oar 
church ; and if the w^eather is bad, my father sends one of 
us for her in our covered wagon, for she is too delicate to 
walk. Sometimes she dines with us, and goes to the 
afternoon service ; and our Parson sajs she is one of the 
most devout of his congregation. But now, that you have 
a clergyman at Moreland, I suppose Dr. Bentley and Mrs. 
Wells will be for getting her there." 

" This lady seems a great favourite with you all ; how 
long has she been in your neighbourhood ?"' 

7* 



78 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" Why, bless you, she was born here ; bom in that very 
house, in Lee cottage ; and she has never been five miles 
distance from it, for any length of time. But come to 
our church on Sunday ; you can cross over the bridge, or 
at the ferry below, just as it suits you, and then you will 
see her." 

" You heard me promise to go "sv^th the Bentleys to hear 
Mr. North." 

" Well, dine with us on Christmas, for then she will be 
at our house." 

" I am engaged with Mr. Thorn ; in fact there is to be 
a large party there on that day." 

" True, I had forgotten ; brother Andi'ew and I are to 
be there in the evening : but I can tell you that you will 
miss seeing our beauty, for she is not to be there;" 

" Well, I must wait until some fortunate chance allows 
me the pleasure. Do you think her so very handsome, 
Mr. Grant ? You must have often seen the young lady." 

" Yes-^she is certainly beautiful, and what is better she 
is very sensible and amiable. She is an orphan, and under 
the care of a very singular woman, her maternal grand- 
mother. Bell, is not the name of the young lady, how- 
ever, although she is called so. Her father's name was- 
Beverly. Mrs. Bell is certainly a very mysterious woman, 
to me ; I once had occasion to do a little piece of work for 
her, and saw enough then to surprise me, but many things 
have occuiTed since to make me alter the opinions I had 
then formed. Her income, by some means or other, is very 
much reduced, I imagine, for I hear that Lee Cottage is to 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 79 

be sold, and that Mrs. Bell has a desire to open a school 
in Moreland, or else to take charge of the infants' school 
which is just established there." 

I retired to rest as soon as my guests left me, for I was 
unusually fatigued, and J, dreamed all night of Julia Bell, 
and the infant' school, add of being myself, aQ ir}fa^t,'and 
of clapping my hands and marching around the room with 
the children, whilst the young lady stood over me with a 
rod. I awaked in the morning with rather sulky feelings 
towards Miss Julia, which did not wear off during the day. 



80 OUR Neighbourhood 



LETTER^II. ^ V 

The weather has been unfavourable for out-door work, 
as the wind has been very high and piercingly cold. Pe 
ter closed the cellar windows and heaped long litter against 
them. The ice-house was emptied of old straw, which 
was thrown into the cow-yard. I hired a very decent man 
to bring the manure from Jameson's inn, at Moreland : he 
engaged to bring a full load for fifty cents, and as soon as 
he has brought fifty loads, if the weather continue open, 
I intend to have it spread on the knoll in front of the spot 
where I imagine you will build. I shall have it ploughed 
in deep, as soon as it is spread, and in the spring, when I 
have added fifty loads more, I shall have it ploughed again 
and sowed with oats and blue grass, as it is called. This 
blue grass is the natural grass of this part of the country. 

Luckily for you I have an immense barn made entirely 
of stone, with a slate roof It is certainly one of the 
most complete things I ever saw. It stands on the brow of 
a knoll, or rather of a slope. The cellar of the stable 
part of the barn is forty feet by thirty, and about eight 
feet in height, over this cellar are the horses and cows' 
stalls, which are arranged on each side of the stable. 
There is room for eight horses and ten cows at present, but 
by a Httle ingenuity, and Mr. Grant has already suggested 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 81 

the plan, there can be room made for four horses and four 
cows more, as the space in the centre is a mere waste. 
Each stall has one moveable plank at the lower end, which 
when raised, allows all the litter of the stable to be shovelled 
down to the cellar. You can easily imagine how clean and 
wholesome a stall can be kept in this way, and how much 
more manure is gathered by this saving process. Both 
horse and cow stables should be built over a cellar of this 
kind, that the animals may be kept firom breathing a 
foul air. Many of the diseases of cattle proceed firom the 
impure atmosphere of a stable. 

I took out of the cellar, soon after I bought the farm, at 
least one hundred wagon loads of rotted manui'e. It had 
lain there a long time, the owner not caring to disturb it. 
I shall in future take out the manure every spring and fall. 
The barn, or rather that part of the barn which is appro- 
priated to hay and grain, is of the same dimensions, with a 
cellar also, under the whole, divided from the other by a 
strong stone partition. This cellar is for calves, and wa- 
gons and wood-sleds, &c. A wide bridge, or causey, 
from the barn-door behind to the level below, makes an 
easy road for ascending and descending wagons. Nothing 
can be easier than to get at the manure below, for the floor, 
which is of stone, is on a line or level with the ground, 
and by backing in the wagons they can be easily filled. 
With the proposed alterations there will be room enough 
for all the cattle that we shall both want ; and as the barn 
stands on the division line, it will be equally convenient. 



82 OL.Jtl NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

I observed what was to me a very curious phenomenon 
this morning. The ground had been quite saturated with 
rain for the last ten days — I mentioned to you that it had 
rained for three days, incessantly. There was a ve ry 
heavy frost last night, and a biting wind all this morning. 
On walking over a clover field I saw that the ground be- 
tween the leaves and the plants of clover was covered 
with vertical icicles of about an inch in height. They 
had the appearance of having been elevated, or projected 
at one stroke or impulse — the field was covered with them. 
The}'- were not formed after the manner of pendant icicles, 
one drop rimning over another, but in needles — sometimes 
a httle column was composed of several of these needles, 
the whole column of the circumference of a small goose- 
quill, others were of a square form, fluted. They certainly 
seemed to have shot up at once. Many of them on the 
highest part of the ground were bent in the dii'ection of 
the \vind which blew heavily during the night too^ and on 
close examination I observed that the bend formed a com- 
plete curve, yet the fluting or ribbing was not broken but 
followed the curve in regular shape. However it may 
have been done — and I presume it took place in the 
night — ^it is quite certain that the fluid which congealed in 
this singular shape, proceded from the earth. — 'V\'Tiat power 
elevated it 1 In the usual way when a heavy frost occurs^ 
the ground is firozen and the water is congealed into hori- 
zontal cakes of ice, when the cold is not very severe all 
the particles of loose earth are surrounded by firozen par- 
ticles of water, when there is a hoar frost, the siuface of 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 83 

ihe ground is covered with this peculiar congelation of 
water, called hoar. The phenomenon which I have de- 
scribed may be very common, but / have never observed 
it before. Peter and Sam say they frequently see it, and 
Sam reminded me that it had thundered yesterday after- 
noon. I recollected that the wind had lulled about four 
o'clock, just after we returned fro"m our * shooting ex- 
cursion, and in less than half an hour the clouds came up 
from the south, and there was a slight shower accompa- 
nied by lightning. In fact several of the late showers, 
from the south, have been accompanied by lightning. Sam 
had no philosophy about the matter, but as he sawl was puz- 
zled, he reverted to a power which could produce effects still 
more mysterious than this one. I now recollect that during 
the summer which I spent with Mr. F., I frequently saw 
the light, spongy ground of a potato-patch or field, covered 
with regular rows of pipings, that is, round holes, of the 
diameter of a coarse wheat straw, clustered together, of 
about an inch in depth. On taking up a slice of this per- 
forated earth, I saw that the partitions between the holes 
were of no other material than the loose earth, and that 
they crumbled in my hand. My mind was not so much 
awakened to such things at that time ; I did not therefore 
let the matter make an impression, but on comparing those 
singular perforations with the projected ice needles, I am of 
opinion that they are both the result of electricity. I will 
talk the subject over with Dr. Bentley. 



84 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



^ LETTER XIII. 

December the \st. — I have been engaged for the last 
week in ploughing in manure. I found that the weather 
was mild, and the ground in fine order, so I determined to 
keep in advance ; for the spring comes on us suddenly, 
and then every thing is to be done. I spread the manure, 
l3road-cast, between the trees in my peach orchard, and 
then ploughed it lightly in, taking care to keep the plough 
at least five feet from each tree. I did not harrow the 
ground, nor do I ever intend to do it in an orchard, and for 
two reasons : one is, that the harrow is very apt to injure 
the trees ; and the other is, that ground, thus left rough 
and open, is pulverized by the action of heat and cold, and 
is capable of sustaining a greater quantity of nutritious 
aliment for the sustenance of plants. I have an excellent 
peach orchard ; I never saw healthier trees, nor any so 
generally well shaped. There are about two hundred in 
one enclosure, and four hundred in another ; the latter are 
all of one kind, the late heath, ripening in October. I hope 
to make these two orchards bring me an income of six 
hundred dollars ; the canal gives me every facility, for, in 
the first place, I can take the peaches there in baskets by 
hand, as the orchards are in the rear of the farm ; and in 
the second, I can take them as they ripen. The trees are 



OUR KEIGHBOURHOOD. 85 

SIX years old, and still look fresh, not having the appear- 
ance of the disease called the " yellows," a malady not 
known in Europe, and in fact many places in this country 
are exempt from it. Dr. Bentley thinks that the disease is 
disappearing; the truth is, we are beginning to take a 
greater interest in a tree, and consequently we are the bet- 
ter able to understand its habits and wants. For three 
years I have carefully examined the state of bearing trees, 
particularly plum, pear, aud peach trees. I have dissected 
them at every season of the year, and have paid particular 
attention to the roots. In the disease called the yellows, 
the roots of the peach tree remained perfectly healthy ; 
and in seven cases out of ten, when a diseased tree was 
removed to a moist soil, the trees recovered. I am con- 
vinced that the roots of a tree can be healthy, while the 
branches are unsound ; but I never saw the body of a tree 
look healthy, and have unsound roots. The peach tree 
very soon exhausts the soil, for it abstracts nourishment 
from it with greater rapidity than almost any other tree ; 
it would be an easy matter, therefore, to prolong its life, and 
ensure its health by furnishing it with a sufficiency of food, 
were not the fact known to us that too much manure is in- 
jurious, unless we can supply it abundantly with water. 
During what is called a wet season here, the peach trees 
revive from a very languid state ; and were the moist sum- 
mers to continue, this fruit tree would hve to a good age. 
You have no idea of the rapid growth of a peach tree, and 
how soon, when the trees are fifteen feet apart, the roots 
meet one another. Mr. Thorn bared the roots of two trees 

8 



86 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

for my inspection, which were fifteen feet asunder, and I 
saw that they had actually met. Now this fact proves 
that we do very wrong in ploughing deep among peach 
trees, for the roots are seriously injured by it. A bruised 
root affects the health of the tree ; but if we cut the root 
with a knife, no harm ensues, unless we cut off too much, 
or too many roots. It is just the case with the tendon of 
an animal ; if we wound it, we often destroy life ; but if 
w-e separate it entirely, the injury we do is only local. 

The physiology of plants is a beautiful study, and it 
should not be neglected by those who intend to cultivate 
orchards. One might as well undertake to navigate a ship 
without ever having studied navigation, as to expect to cul- 
tivate fruit trees for profit, without knowing their habits 
and wants. We do not propose that the common orchard- 
ists, or rather the common fruit merchants, should under- 
stand the science of the art of horticuUure ; but they 
should know what suits the growth and health of a tree, 
and what injures them. There is something more to be 
known about trees than the number of feet that they should 
stand apart in an orchard, and what is the proper time for 
planting them. When I first studied the art of horticul- 
ture, I did not know that there was such a thing as a fruit 
spur— orawatersprout—orbearing and unbearingbranches. 

Nor did i know that when a tree is of a certain age, that 
the under, straggling boughs should be cut off, as they 
would otherwise dwindle and perish. 

" Now, my dear Edward, because I tell you this, do not 
seize on the first tree that you see, and cut away at the 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 87 

under branches, before you know what I mean. By under 
boughs, I mean those crooked, awkwardly curved, small 
limbs, that either issue from the main body, or from the 
under side of the first set of branches. As soon as they 
have performed their part in promoting the growth of the 
tree, they give precedence to the leading branches ; and in 
consequence of the horizontal projection of the latter, they 
are pushed, as it were, out of the centre of gravity, and 
become useless. A water-sprout, or, as some call them, 
gluttons, are those perpendicular and vigorous shoots which 
are projected in one summer from the upper side of the large 
limbs, nearest the body of the tree. 

These water-sprouts are worse than useless, as they 
absorb a great quantity of moisture without having the 
capacity of bearing fruit : fruit-spurs are those small, lateral 
twigs, which are from half an inch to three and five inches 
in length, and having buds in pairs, at intervals. But one 
day's practice with a judicious person will instruct you bet- 
ter than whole chapters on the subject. 

I ought to have examined my peach-trees at the roots, 
in October ; but I neglected to do it. I attended to them to- 
day, but among the whole six hundred, I only found two 
worms. Vigilant search is the best remedy for this evil ; as 
it takes no more time to pick out a worm, if any there be, 
than to apply di. plaster which shall destroy them. The fly 
which deposites the egg from which this worm comes, is the 
Egesia exitiosa ; but it is not so destructive now, as every 
one is aware of the nature of the insect, and the point of 
attack, and understands the mode of destroying it. 



88 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

i have just received a very kind note from Mr. Parr, beg- 
ging me to spend the day there to-morrow. I had intended 
to ride over to Moreland, and settle with Jameson for the 
manure, which I promised to do monthly, but I will defer it 
to another day. I like this Mr. Parr : there is something 
very pecuhar, touching, I might say, in his manner and 
appearance. I am not singular in this, for both Dr. and Mrs. 
Bentley have the same sentiments. Miss Sidney asked 
him one day why he had been in such haste to marry, 
meaning that she might have hoped to engage him, had 
he seen her first. He blushed deeply, and said — " Haste, 
Miss Sidney : my dear wife, there was no undue haste, was 
there ?" Mrs. Parr, understanding what Miss Sidney 
meant, replied laughingly, " Why, no ; considering the 
circumstances under which we were placed, there was no 
undue haste ; but Miss Sidney did not allude to the speed 
of our courtship, nor to the speed of the horses which carried 
us off, but to the probability of your selecting her for a wife, 
instead of me, had you waited until you came to this neigh- 
bourhood. 

" There could have been no possibility of it," said Mr. 
Parr, shuddering at the very thought of not having his whole 
soul filled with love and esteem for his wife ; and as he 
said this, he looked with absolute hon'or at poor Miss 
Sidney. 

" There, you see. Miss Sidney," said Mrs. Parr good-hu- 
mouredly, " on how slender a reed you built your chance. 
Pray, my dear husband, has Miss Sidney any freckles ?" 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. S9 

Mr. Parr smiled, but he rose to go, not feeling easy in 
such an atmosphere ; and his wife rose also, saying, " To 
love my husband as you ought to love him, you must hear 
the history of my freckles ; then, indeed, you would in 
reality be sorry that he had not seen you first." 

" I have promised Dr. Bentley," sa'icf Mr. Parr, " to write . ». 
an account of my early life ; and if it be at all interesting to 
him, he may show it to you, Miss Sidney : you will there 
see, that if I had not married at the time, and in the man- 
ner that I did, I should never have mamed at all." 

" Now," said Miss Sidney to me, after telling me the 
above anecdote, " instead of laughing at Mr. Parr, I was 
exceedingly affected. There was something so honest, so 
true, and above all, so new, in this expression of his feel- 
ings, that I am sure I shall never venture to joke with him 
ao-ain about his love, or his wife. I never saw a man so 
exceedingly pained as he was at the bare thought of my 
supposing that he could ever have loved any one but his 
wife. Such men are rare, T wish that I could see such 
another." 

" Would you give up the scheme of going to England, if 
you could T' said her aunt. 

"There would be no need of that; for Mr. Pan* \vould 
have gone to England or any where with his wife, had 
she wished it." 



8* 



^; OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 



/- 



LETTER XIV. 

SpeJnding the day with Mr. Parr was a different thing 
from spending it according to the common understanding 
of the phrase. He expected me at nine o'clock in the morn- 
ing, and as I had a great desire to see more of this singu- 
lar man, I went at the hour appointed. 

I have just returned, and, would you believe it ? although 
I spent twelve hours with Mr. and Mrs. Parr, without the 
interruption of any other person, I come away as fresh and 
as untired as I went. It was something new to be with 
such a couple, such a trio'^I ought to say ; as there is a 
person living with them, by the name of aunt Martha, an 
elderly lady, pale and thin, but of gentle mein and good 
manners. They have one child, a little boy, about three 
years old, and very like his father ; for, young as he is, he 
shows some of those peculiar points of character for which 
his father is so distinguished. Every thing that Mr. Parr 
does or says is unexpected to you ; even his wife, so con- 
stantly as they have been together for four years, nay, I 
believe they have been married these five years, is often 
unprepared for what he is going to say ; and yet, in no 
event would you have him different. To sum up his cha- 
racter in a few words, he is consistent. His thoughts, his 
feelings, his actions, are all of an elevated nature ; nothing 
common or gross attaches itself to his gentle nature ; and 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 91 

such an effect has this upon his associates, that they gra- 
dually rise to his level while in his company. 

He is well read in ancient and modem literature, and has 
a taste for the arts and sciences, and as he is now settled 
in the country, he is becoming fond of horticulture, in all of 
which his wife partakes, and aunt Martha falls into their 
ways and habits in the most quiet way imaginable, without 
suspecting that she is a jot less learned than her compa- 
nions, so simple are their ways. Whatever Mr. Parr knows, 
you are sure to know too, for he is fond of speaking of those 
things which interest him at the moment, and when he ex- 
plains himself, it is not with a view to show his superiority, 
but to impart to others the same pleasure that he enjoys 
himself. He has a noble- green-house, sixty feet in length 
and twelve in width : it is of a plan not requiring fire or 
any artificial heat, being about six feet below the surface, 
and hned or filled all around inside of a plank wall with tan, 
well rammed down. There is an arch way under ground, 
leading to the green-house, from the cellar of the house, so 
that you can pass and repass without the least exposure to 
the weather, and there is a pipe leading from a cistern to 
the green-house, which plentifully supplies it with water. 
The indefatigable man, Cyrus Grant, planned the whole, 
although he confessed to Mr. Parr that he was not the in- 
venter of this economical mode of warming a green-house. 

This green-house is Mr. Parr's chief amusement when 
not reading, talking, or walking with his wife, and one of 
his prime pleasures is to give oflf-sets and dupEcates of all 
he has to his firiends.. His gardener, Park, told me, when 



92 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

Mr. Parr was not in hearing, that his time was principally 
taken up, every spring and fall, in repotting or separating 
plants, and in putting down layers and cuttings for others. 
Clara mil be deKghted to hear this, as she is so fond of 
flowers. At the time I was there this morning, he sent a 
fine tea-rose to Miss Julia Bell, or Beverly ; I rather grudg- 
ed it to her, as I had not yet forgotten the rod she held over 
me the other night. 

Mr. Parr has an income of ten thousand dollars a year, 
and yet he says, that altl^iough he lays up ihree thousand, 
he spends no more than four, for he is very exact in all his 
ways, and sets down the diflferent sums as they are spent. 
He showed me his check book, and there, facing each 
check, is the amount drawn, for what purpose, and to whom 
paid : once a month he makes an abstract, and closes the 
diiferent items. I asked him what then became of the re- 
maining three thousand dollars, if he only laid up three. He 
said that there was abundant means and ways of spending 
three thousand dollars. I do not care who knows it, said 
he, although he spoke it in a whisper, and no one was near 
us, but the thi-ee thousand dollars of the last year is to go 
for the purchase of Lee cottage. 

"Lee Cottage, sir? Does Mrs. Bentley know of yom' 
intentions?" "No: why need she? You asked me 
what became of the residue of my income, and I was 
bound to tell you." 

"You know, Mr. Parr, that I \v^is about purchasing 
Lee Cottage for my cousin, James ; but from something 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



93 



which Mrs. Bentley said at the time, I found it would not 
be very agreeable to the young lady, so I said no more 
about it. 

" Well, that shall not hinder me from purchasing it, as I 
intend to make her a present of it, when the bargain is con- 
cluded I mean ; for although I have been in private treaty 
about it for three months, I am no nearer the possession 
than I was when I began. Mrs. Bell is not ingenuous ; 
she trifles, and I have my doubts now whether she means 
to part with the cottage." 

" Is there any mystery about the old lady ?" 
"Mystery? — No— I do not think there is. SJie is 
proud and poor — that is all I can understand; but her 
grand daughter is a very fine young woman ; my wife is 
very fond of her, and it was she who first put it into my 
head to purchase the cottage for her." 

When Mr. Parr said this, he smiled and crossed his arms? 
a thing he often does when any thing particularly pleases 
him. " Do you know our aunt Martha ?" said he, still 
smiUng. 

" I only know that she is either your or Mrs. Parr's 
aunt, and that she is considered as an amiable and bene- 
volent woman." 

" She is not our aunt, although we have taught our Httle 
boy to call her so ; but she is the very gentlest of human 
beings, excepting my wife. Martha has suggested a thing 
to us, which we shall endeavour to bring to perfection-; 
and then Lee Cottage, in Miss Bell's possession, will be a 
clever thing." 



94 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



" What ! I suppose you have a husband in view for her, 
and one to whom such a beautiful little spot would be very 
acceptable ? It cannot be T, that is certain," said I, laugh- 
ing, " as you know I have a house of my own." 

" You have guessed right, sir, in both respects ; but do 
not mention it. The gentleman, for whom we intend Miss 
Bell, does not know of our washes in this point, neither in 
fact does the lady. Martha said it would be an excellent 
match, and my ^vife likes the parties." 

" I will not push you for the name of the happy gentle- 
man, Mr. Parr, but I fancy it can be no other than Mr. 
North. I am afraid you will be disappointed, for our 
young acquaintance, Stephen Haywood, prophesies that 
Mr. North and Miss Sidney mil be man and w4fe before 
the next fall pippins are ripe." 

Mr. Parr shook his head incredulously. He said that 
such a thing could not be, as it was well known that this 
lady was to return to Europe, and that Mr. North never 
would quit his country. This simple scheme, and the be- 
nevolence of his heart, will show you at once what kind of 
man he is ; and his wife is exactly like him, only that she 
understands the ways of the world better than he does. 
He is so constantly with her, and takes such pleasure in 
her society, that she has no difficulty in keeping him right ; 
for he always saj's what he thinks, and is willing to be 
guided by the one he loves best on earth. 

We sauntered over the beautiful grounds, and talked of 
men and books. Sir Walter Scott was not left untouched^ 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 96 

nor did we neglect Cooper ; but we both confessed^jhat 
there were terrible drawbacks in the works of the latter. 
There was always some tame character, or some ill con- 
trived scene, which nearly spoiled the book. We resumed 
the conversation when we returned to the house, and Mrs. 
Parr agreed with us. " For instance," said she, " how ill 
judged and silly it was in Mr. Cooper to call Mrs. Wyllies 
the ' Governess,' and ' Wyllies,' as often as he did ; and 
how little he knew of woman, when he made Mrs, Wyl- 
lies look down with such scorn on the poor page, Roderick, 
when she discovered that it was a female that stood be- 
fore her. A woman placed under the same circumstances 
with Mrs. Wyllies and Gertrude, would have felt a little 
more sympathy for the poor, gentle being, who was daily in 
the habit of administering to their wants. Mr. Cooper 
wants tact. The closing scene of the Red Rover is very 
insipid and far fetched. The description of the entrance of 
Mr, or Captain De Lacy, with his lady leaning on his arm ; 
Mrs. Wyllies and the young man, too, stiffly coming for- 
ward, as if in a formal tea-party, is insufferable ; and when 
the Red Rover unfurls the flag before he expires, we could 
almost wish that the book had never been written ; and 
yet what a magnificent book it is! There are great 
beauties in several of his works — the Pioneers — the Pilot — 
the L ast of the Moh icans — which Mr. Parr and T think 
the most perfect of the whole — the Red Rover — and the 
Wept of Wish-ton-wish, are interesting novels. But 
nothing that he has written can at all compare with the 



96 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

Antiquary. The rising of the tide on the sands while 
Sir Arthur and Miss Wardour were endeavouring to es 
cape — and the funeral scene in Mucklebasket's cottage, 
are scenes beyond his painting. These two chapters are 
of a far different mould, and show, that however Cooper 
may equal Sir Walter in many other respects, he can never 
hope to approach the sublimity and pathos of the two 1 
have mentioned." 

Mrs. Parr is right; Cooper is little and great alternately, 
and the worst is he does not mend. The chief merit of his 
Wish-ton- wish lies in the incidents and characters which 
he has so unhandsomely borrowed from Hope Leslie. His 
Ruth Heathcote is a very successful copy of Mrs. Fletcher: 
indeed it is one of the best female characters that Cooper 
ever drew. I speak of these two authors, knowing that 
jou have read them both. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 97 



LETTER X\^ 

I TOLD you a few^ajs back that Mr. Parr had a great 
%'eneration for a tree. Veneration is not perhaps the term; 
it is rather the overflowing of a grateful spirit, awe-struck 
by the mysterious and wonderful works of nature. He 
does not love his own child merely because it is his, but 
because it is the gift of his Creator, and he feels a double 
responsibility in its well-doing. He lived in the city during 
the first year of his marriage : indeed I ought to say that 
he always lived there until he returned from England; and he 
speaks feelingly and sensibly of the very great disad- 
vantage to children, both in a physical and moral sense, 
in having them immured in a great city. " My head aches," 
said he, " when I see them in such numbers, roaming about, 
jostled by every ill-tempered person that passes. Every 
thing they hear and see has a tendency to debase them ; 
their faculties are constantly exercised in manoeuvering to 
accomplish their little purposes, knowing that they cannot 
have any gratification unless they use artifice to obtain it. 
A green field, a tree, are pleasant sights to children : how 
far they must go through crowded streets before they can 
get near them, and how many a fine, noble boy, plays tru- 
ant, or deceives his parents, to get a ramble in the country ! 
Would to God, my child," said he, lifting up his little boy, 

9 



98 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

tenderly, " that I had it in my power to make every child 
as happy as you are. This child, Mr. Allen, has never 
known a moment's unhappiness ; his mother and aimt 
Martha have regulated his temper and dispositions so judi- 
ciously, that he is^ever weary. The lawn is a never-fail- 
ing resoQrce^|e»it^ : and he^Jready^^hegins to understand 
the difference between his own property and that of others. 
This cannot be taught children in the city, for the moment 
they receive a lesson of this kind from their parents, they 
learn the reverse of it in the streets. I think it a great 
blessmg to live in the country ; and to show my sense of it^ 
I will strive to do all the good I can to my fellow-creatures, 
and to all created things." 

T. hope, my dear cousin, that this is not tedious to you. I 
want to make you thoroughly acquainted ^vith this singu- 
lar man. Wlienever he speaks, all eyes and all ears are 
attentive to him : there is such a peculiar melody in the 
tones of his voice, and he is so kind and gentle in his man- 
ners and ways. 

He is just now making himself acquainted with the 
physiology of plants ; and I have no doubt that he will 
make some important discovery in the science, for he 
beguis without prejudice, and \\dthout any previous know- 
ledge of the subject. A sensible man who sets him- 
self earnestly to work on any particular branch of philoso- 
phy, will strike out a path for himself, let him be ever so 
Ignorant before he commenced ; but one who has learned 
the elements at school, will regulate every thuig to square 
with his preconceived notions. I find that Mr. Parr has 
aheady been working hard to comprehend the nature of the 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 99 

circulation of the sap in plants : he has promised that he 
will put his thoughts on paper : as soon as he does I will 
send them to you : I am sure they will amuse you. 

I think it a great compliment that Mr. Parr has devoted 
this day to me ; he is in general very shy, and is called ta- 
citurn, but he talked throughout the day without reserve, 
to the visible pleasure.of his wife and aunt Martha, who 
every now and then smiled at each other. 

" You are a very great favourite," said Mrs. Parr to me, 
when her husband left the room for afew minutes. " I never 
heard him talk so much to any one before, unless it were to 
Dr. Bentley, and he did not feel easy with him until we had 
been together a fortnight. One day with you has made him 
loquacious." She spoke of him as the gentlest and kindest 
of human beings, as faultless as any creature of this world 
could be, and one whose sole aim seemed to be to make 
others happy. I told her that I considered myself as fortu- 
nate in being in his neighbourhood. " It is fortunate for 
you, Mr. Allen," said the simple minded lady ; " it is a 
blessing to be near one so entirely free from guile. One can 
never feel any base or sordid passion while with him ; ob- 
serve his conversation and his bearing through this day, and 
then contrast it with the best friend you have, and you will 
know how to estimate him. It is not often that those who 
have been brought up in the school of adversity can come 
out so purified from the vices which poverty and misery 
engender. My husband's early life was one of suffering, 
but I trust that his piety, his gratitude, and his humility. 



100 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

will ensure him a long-life of tranquillity. 1 consider my- 
self as one of the most fortunate of women in being his 
wife." 

This eulogy would sound strangely to the ears of a fa- 
shionable wife. She would say that it was the height 
of ill-breeding to praise a husband in this manner to a stran- 
ger, but it gratified me to hear it. ^ I only hope that my 
wife may have it in her power to say tliis of me, but I shall 
never be as near perfection as Mr. Parr. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 101 



LETTER XVI. 

I WENT to Moreland this morning, with my mind occu- 
pied by my visit of yesterday. My spirits had lost their buoy- 
ancy ; I was to see man and woman too, in a different 
shape from those I had so lately seen ; and when Mr. 
Jameson approached me to take my horse, I felt discon- 
tented and churlish. 

Mr. Parr would not have received this poor man's civilities 
so ungraciously as I did, thought I, and of what benefit has 
he been to me if the impression of his virtues has been so 
slight. This poor man has not changed for the worse since I 
last saw him — but it is I that am altered. To atone, there- 
fore, for my incivility, I interested myself in Mr. Jameson's 
little grievances, and promised to assist him. He had got 
into a quarrel with one of his neighbours, and in conse- 
quence, a drain, which this neighbour suffered to run 
through his cow-yard, was now dammed up and was flood- 
ing the pig-pens of the innkeeper. I showed him that the 
damming up of this drain was the mostfortunate thing in the 
world for him, for if he would only move the pens a little 
higher up, he could throw all the stable litter in the soak- 
ings, and I would give him a shilling a load more for the 
manure. 

9* 



102 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOr 

Mr. Bond, the neighbour, is a tallow-chandler, and has 
always a great quantity of leached ashes to sell. I made 
an arrangement with him to empty sixty bushels of these 
ashes, in the aforesaid puddle every month. Jameson wall 
see that he is honest in giving exact quantities, and thus 
we shall all be gainers by this private feud, for this mixture 
of ashes and stable manure will be excellent for your grain 
fields. You observe that I say ' yours'— I feel confident 
of your coming now. 

This Jameson is a singular being. His father was quite 
as much so, for although he had but this one child, and was 
a man of some wealth, he never left him a cent bej^ond the 
house and lot which he now occupies. He is married to 
an ugly little woman, as cross and as pee\dsh as he is him- 
self Her name was Hetty Weed, and although her husband 
has been married to her full fourteen years, yet he still calls 
her Hetty Weed. 

" Hetty Weed," said he, " see that Riker gives IVIi\ 
AUen's horse four quarts of oats." " Matty Jameson," 
said she, " go and tell Riker yourself: I am mending 
your stockings, and that is quite enough work for me ; 
I get up for no Mr. Allen— he sha'n't lead me by the 
nose as he does you." Mr. Jameson has but one eye, and 
hmps very much, and is altogether a sorry-looking fellow,, 
but with the lessons of benevolence still fresh in my mind, 
I conquered the disgust which I hitherto felt in pa\mig my 
monthly \'isit to him, and made some advances to his vira- 
go of a wife. But he winked with liis remaining eye and 
shook his head. " Let her alone," said he, in a low tone, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. lOJJ 

" I will see that your horse gets liis oats." " My horse was 
fed before I came, Mr. Jameson," said I, " he will want no- 
thing until noon, but you can let him be put under the shed, 
which is worth two shillings to me ; there, Mrs, Jameson," 
said I, tossing the money in her lap, " there is shed money 
for you." She let the piece of silver He in ner lap without 
looking up, but I had scarcely left the bar room before she 
was out and had ordered the horse to be put in the stable 
before a full rack of hay. 



104 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOiy, 



A LETTER XVII. 

MoRELAND has but one street, but it is certainly half a 
mile in length. It has risen to its present flourishing state 
since the canal was made. Before that period Jameson's 
inn, a school-house of logs, an old stone-house, (the home- 
stead of old Mr. Jameson) and a rope-walk, were the only 
buildings in the place ; all the houses therefore are new, 
which, with the pretty church, school-house, and market- 
place gives the whole a very cheerful appearance, The 
inn is, of course, the worst looking house in the town, but it 
seems good enough for the persons who frequent it ; rough 
carters an(| poor Irishmen, who travel on foot to seek for 
work on the canals, are all that visit the " Bell tavern." 

After I had settled with Jameson, I sauntered up the 
street but I was soon driven back again by the yelping of 
the curs, which all flew out open mouthed at me. " Won't 
you take dinner with us % " said Hetty Weed, " it will be 
ready in half an hour, I have just bought some fine fat 
quails." I thanked her, and gave her half a dollar for her 
disappointment, and the sordid creature took the money 
with as much satisfaction as if I had partaken of her 
dinner. 

Just as I was mounting my horse, Mr. North came up. 
He had been at my farm, he said, and hearing that I went 
to Moreland he hurried home. I felt compelled therefore 
to dismount again, which Hetty Weed did not much like. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 105 

as she had received all she expected to get^ and had no 
wish to let the poor horse have another mouthful. I saw 
tliis by her eye, and I begged that the horse might be left 
at the door until my return. 

I hoped that as Mr. North was no stranger, I should 
escape the barking of the dogs, but I mistook ; they 
sallied out again, and were as vociferous as before. I told 
my companion that this was a great nuisance and called 
for the interference of a magistrate, and that in every point 
of \dew it would be better for the community if there 
were fewer dogs. Mr, North acknowledged that they 
were useless animals, excepting in the single case of using 
them as churners, as the Hay woods do ; or perhaps every 
man who was fond of sporting might be excused in keeping 
a pointer, or a setter. 

" Dogs," continued he, " are a dirty, and a destructive race, 
soiling the house, and our clothes in jumping on us, blighting 
and rendering offensive every plant they touch, trampling 
on borders and flower-beds, often stealing fresh provisions, 
and always eating as much as would satisfy a pig, for it is 
a fallacy to suppose that a dog eats nothing but bones. He 
will eat voraciously whenever he can get food, whether 
from liis master or his neighbour; and as to his watchfulness, 
it may be a security in a lonely situation, but in a thickly 
settled community a good neighbour is far better than a 
dog. All the robberies and petty thefts which occur on a 
farm, or in a village, are committed by persons who are in 
the habit of prowling around the premises, and who always 



106 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

make friends with the dogs. Saddles, bridles, and even 
horses, have been carried off, when a vigilant, and indeed 
savage dog has lain near them. We often hear of these 
things, bat it never occm's to us to reflect on the nselessness 
of a dog. One of my parishioners had a fine calf stolen 
from an enclosure the other night — the very house whence 
that fierce looking dog issued, which followed us so long — 
a worse dog does not exist, and yet he was of no use when 
he could have been serviceable. Generally speaking, 
thieves are respected by these animals, and children and in- 
nocent persons are worried by them. If a man lay a tat- 
tered coat or hat on the ground and sets his dog to watch 
them, no one will dare to approach. This is the utmost 
dependence we can place on a dog, and the happy owner 
.of such a one calls him invaluable, but if the coat or hat 
were worth stealing, and an opportunity occurred, the dog 
could easily be bribed to give up his trust. But these are 
petty allegations against the dogs, compared to the awful 
misery which they inflict when they are attacked by mad- 
ness. This of itself is enough to banish dogs from a civil- 
ized community, and I can only account for the general 
apathy which prevails, by referring to an equally strange 
infatuation which besets those who reside at the base of 
eruptive mountains. The same cause which induces us to 
keep dogs around us,temptsus to build and reside in danger- 
ous places— we hope to be ourselves exempt from the ac-^ 
cidents and casualties which have destroyed others." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 107 

Mr. North's lodgings are near the upper end of the 
street. He introduced me to the lady with whom he lives 
— a widow, whose name is Roseby. Her husband was an 
officer in the navy, and her feelings are as much alive on 
naval affairs now, as they were during his lifetime. 
Were it not that there are some differences of opinion 
between her and Mr. North on the subject of war, 
she would be too happy in being honoured by his prefer- 
ence ; for it seems there was a struggle between a maiden 
lady by the name of Streamer — Miss Patty Streamer — 
and our neat Httle Mrs. Roseby. 

"It was difficult for me to decide," said Mr. North, 
when the lady left the room, " for their characters and ac- 
commodations were so equal. If I dishked the httle dog 
which Miss Patty was in the habit of nursing in a basket, 
I dishked still more the eternal reference to battles and 
bloodshed, with which Mrs. Roseby intermingled her con- 
versation. I was on a visit to one of my present vestry- 
men, Mr. Holt, when these ladies signified their wish to 
take a quiet boarder." 

" And how did you choose between them, since they 
were so equal in their pretensions ?" 

" Why, I beheve it was the name, after all — at least I 
can assign no other reason ; for I went over, in my own 
mind, all the good and evil of both places ; and I was 
forced to own, that in every thing excepting the name, 
Miss Patty Streamer's was the more eligible of the two. 
I was certain that I could, in time, prevail on her to give 



108 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

the dog away ; but I was not equally sure that I could 
turn the current of Mrs. Roseby's thoughts into a more 
pacific channel. Did you ever hear of such a name for a 
quiet maiden lady as Streamer? Mrs. Roseby's name 
won the day ; and excepting that she will always read the 
ship news aloud when there is a dearth of sea fights and 
blockades, I am very comfortably situated, as she is very 
neat and very accommodating." 

Mrs. Roseby entered with a plate of biscuits and a 
bottl^ of wine, and, as in duty bound, she offered them to 
her lodger first. Mr. North handed them to me, but I de- 
clined the wine, saying that I never drank any. " Bless 
me !" said the lady, " you would never have made an 
officer in the navy, nor would Mr. North ever have been a 
chaplain there. He would have been called a methodist, 
and you a chicken-hearted person. Mr. Beverly was the 
only gentleman on board of my husband's ship, who never 
drank wine — ^but he was a brave man, notwithstanding ; 
for Captain Roseby said, that in the engagement with 
the Echo, he fought as bravely as any of the officers, and 
he was only a passenger at the time." 

'• ^Ml^it Mr. Beverly was it ?" said I. " Why Miss Ju- 
lia Beverly's father. That is — her name is Beverly, 
although she goes by the name of Bell since his death ; 
and I cannot see why, unless it be for shortness. If I 
were she, I would be called b}- my father's name, for he 
was as brave a man as ever fought a battle. Is not Miss 
Julia a beauty, sir ?" 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 109 

t told her that I had never seen her ; "but you have, I 
oresume," said I, turning to Mr. North, who seemed impa- 
tient to be gone. " Have you ever seen this paragon ?" 

Mr. North smiled. " Seen her !" said Mrs. Roseby ; " to 
be sure he has ; why, he knew her when she was a child, 
■ind he taught her the catechism. Mr. Beverly told me, 

one day, that " 

" Pray, my dear madam^" said Mr. North, reddening, 
*' do not repeat that again. I would rather hear you enter- 
tain Mr. Allen with a description of one of your sea- 
fights." 

" I must hear them another time," said I, rising ; " I am 
to dine at home to-day with a friend, and I shall be late. I 
hope to prevail on you, Mr. North, to return with me ; and 
I shall beg your acceptance, madam, of a couple of brace 
of quails in the evening." So I got rid of the sea-fight. 

Mr. North returned with me ; and I told him that I 
should have preferred the maiden lady, name, dog, and all, 
to this loquacious person. But Mr. North insisted that he 
had done the best for himself, as he had a way of stopping 
her when he was fatigued. " One would suppose," said 
he, " from the sanguinary tone of her conversation, that 
she was masculine and callous ; but a more kind and gen- 
tle woman never breathed, excepting towards this Miss 
Patty Streamer : they interfere very often with each other, 
in their pursuits and occupations. Miss Patty is strenuous 
for the support of the missionaries, and Mrs. Roseby for the 
liquidation of the debt of the church. Miss Patty Streamer, 
by her knowledge of scriptural phrases, maintains the pro- 

10 



IIQ OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

priely of assisting the missionaries ; which phrases are 
sometimes as mal-apropos as Mrs. Roseby could wish, 
and she never fails in exposing them, although in as 
delicate a way as possible ;— whilst the latter brings up 
a long list of naval regulations, to show the necessity 
of fxghting the good faith with the hands unencumbered 
with debt. I shall put a stop to this folly ; for although 
neither of them are of any great importance in our little 
society, yet wider feuds have arisen from still more insig- 
nificant beginnings." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, HI 



LETTER XVIII. ^ ^ 

I FOUND Andrew Haywood akeadj at my house • and 
exactly at one we sat down to Dinah's neat, well-dressed 
little dinner, and an excellent bottle or two of sparkling 
cider, made of the apples called Grey-house. My finances 
will not admit of my purchasing fine old Madeira, and the 
common wine is not half so wholesome as cider, so I do not 
buy it. Next summer I hope to make a barrel of currant 
wine, which is made so fine in our neighbourhood, that we 
can very well dispense with imported wines. You would 
be very much surprised to see how great a change these 
Temperance Societies have effected in this country : why, 
only three years ago, you could never enter the house of a 
farmer, or a viUager, without his offering you something to 
dnnk ; nay, he was stigmatized as mean, when he with- 
held it. The practice was here, and indeed at home, so 
universal, that it never struck us as disgusting. Ten years 
hence it will scarcely be believed that this custom ever pre- 
vailed. 

Andrew Haywood said that there were more spirits drank 
in his father's house fifteen years ago, when he was a poor 
man, and had no son of age to assist m drinking them, than 
there is now with his large family, and with the addition of 
hisnumerous friends and acquaintances. Mr.Northmeansto 



JJ2 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

carry the reform still higher, by not permitting even cider 
to be drank in his house. He always, I find, refuses it ; he 
considers that we are but deceiving ourselves when we 
leave off drinking one liquor, and continue with another. 
Cider,unless it beof the very first quaHty,is unwholesome, 
and creates" tliirst— keeping the iower classes in the con- 
stant practice of running to the cider-barrel; and the 
women of the family are no gainers by it, as all the 
mugs, pitchers, and tumblers, are in requisition, and are 
constantly to be cleaned. Besides, cider is thought, by 
ignorant people, to be an innocent beverage ; and in conse- 
quence, all the children and women partake of it. Women 
who,heretofore,when spirits were used at dinner, only drank 
water, have now become as fond of that stimulating Hquor, 
cider, as their husbands. 

" Come," said the honest man, " come, Mr. Allen, do 
you set thl example ; give up cider, as you have wine." " I 
give upwine,su-," said I, "because I cannot afford good 
wine; but I should be unwilling to deny myself and my 
friends the gratification of drinking this very pleasant and 
cheap liquor. I w^U wait until you commence the thing." 
"Why, I have aheady begun : nay, I have not for seve^ 
ral years 'touched spirit of any kind ; and I have only now 
and then, at a friend's, sipped a glass of A^dne." 

"My father wdU not give up cider," said Haywood. 
" Why, what would become of his fine orchards of Harri- 
son and Winesap apples, and his cider presses ? Why, we 
make at least five hundred dollars a year by them _" 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 113 

" There lies the difficulty. It is like slavery, every man 
feels that it is an evil, but who is to give up his property ? 
Who is there that feels as if he were called upon to sacrifice 
the whole of his income to liberate his slaves, or to give 
up his cider presses for the good of the community ? I 
do not despair, however, to see both these things accom- 
plished in time. No rational man, no Christian, in the pre.. 
sent state of society, ought to desire that a thorough re- 
form should take place at once ; but the way is preparing 
for the gradual change of many abuses. You and I, Mr. 
Allen, can greatly assist in this work by our individual 
examples." 

"And pray why am I to be left out, Mr. North?" said 
Andrew ; " am I not to be considered as worthy to assist ?" 
" Yes, Mr. Haywood, your influence is important, too ; 
but we must look to the heads of families for their counte- 
nance ; after that, I have no doubt that the matter will be 
easy to us all." 

" Well, here is a beginning for me. I did intend to finish 
this glass ; but firom this hour I abjure all strong drink, ex- 
cepting when I drink a lady's health." 

" One particular lady you mean, Mr. Haywood :. and 
I here promise to quit even cider, as soon as I get a wife, 
unless she forbid it. I really believe, Mr. North, that you 
are right. The ladies in this neighbourhood do certainly 
drink cider now, and there is scarcely one in ten that has 
not her face unnaturally flushed after drinking it. Did 

10* 



114 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD^. 

you observe Miss Sidney colour the other day?" (Mr 
North's face was of a deep tinge in an instant.) 

" No : I saw her blush, but no way unnaturally flushed, 
as you call it ; besides, I do not believe that Miss Sidney 
does drink cider. No lady of refinement would drink any 
thing so stimulating." 

Oh ! thought I, Stephen's prophecy is working. 
You are a little touched, my friend. So I attacked honest 
Andrew — " But they all drink it, I fancy," said I. " I re- 
collect some fine bottles of crab that were opened at the 
first party I was at. It was at Mrs. Wells' I think — yes — 
I remember that Miss Kitty Wells drank a glass of it. I- 
found it too strong for my head." It was now Andrew's 
turn to redden ; but he was farther gone in love than Mr. 
North, and did not therefore trust himself to answer, 
" But after all," said I to them, " what is there to blush 
about 1 There was no indelicacy in either of these ladies 
drinking cider ." But Mr. North was too shrewd ; for. 
looking earnestly at me, he said — " I have found you 
out, sir. If you had stopped with Miss Sidney, I should 
not have suspected any roguery, but my friend An- 
drew's blush has betrayed you. Mr. Haywood, this gen- 
tleman thinks he has discovered that you and I are in love^ 
and he will now run away with the notion that the two 
ladies just mentioned have stolen our hearts. Speak for 
yourself, and disclaim all thoughts of this kind, as I do. 
I can tell you, Mr. Allen, that Miss Sidney neither does nor 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOI>, 115 

will affect a clergyman, still less an American ; and surely 
these are objections which I cannot alter, or set aside, if 
nothing else were in the way." 

" As to me," said Andrew, blushing deeper and deeper 
every instant, " I will honestly confess, that if I had.a thou> 
sand dollars a year, I would try hard to persuade the lady 
you mention, Mr. Allen, to be a farmer's wife." 

" You deserve both the thousand dollars and the lady," 
said I, "and I prophesy, that before those faU pippins are 
ripe next year, that you will be married to Miss Kitty 
Wells." 

Away flew Andrew, as much confused as a young 
lady of sixteen., and quite as happy— he went to spend 
the evening with the lady, and I have no doubt his 
consciousness made him act a little unHke himself; for 
when Mr. North and I had time to look around, after 
we were seated in Mrs. WeUs' parlour, I liinted to him that 
Miss Wells looked quite as distrait as our friend Andrew. 
Miss Sidney was not there as we expected, so I had no 
chance of seeing how Mr. North would bear her presence 
after wha^, had passed. A bottle of sparkling cider was 
opened, and all the ladies drank of it ; Mr. Haywood stole 
a look at me, and Mr. North smiled. 



116 OUK NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



/J LETTER XIX. ^ 

It snowed all night, commencing when we left Mrs, 
Wells's, but as the weather was unusually mild yesterday, 
and the ground soft, the snow can not remain long on the 
o-round. We have been thrashing rye to-day, and I amused 
myself for some time in seeing the difference in the labour 
of Peter and Dennis. One of Peter's strokes of the flail 
was quite as effective as the Irishman's, and yet he did not 
fatigue himself half as much. An American bends one 
shoulder lightly, juf't sufficient to allow the flail to swing 
around easily, thus obliging that instrument to perform a 
due share of the labour, whereas Dennis bent both back and 
shoulders as he forced the flail down. Then the mode of 
changing the position of their hands on the flail, when one 
arm and shoulder is tired, was done with ease and grace by 
the American, and stiffly enough by the other. It is the 
same thing with chopping wood. An Irishman strikes 
with treble the force that he need do, and rarely can learn 
which is the true side of the log to introduce the wedge. I 
much wonder at this, as many of them have never used an 
axe until they came to this country. 

Sam has been half wild to-day about sleighs and sleigh- 
bells ; for my part, I am not yet accustomed to this mode of 
travelling, and therefore do not enjoy it so much as the na- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD llT 

lives do. To me the motion of a sleigh is very fatiguing-, 
more so than that of a carriage, and the bright light from 
the snow is very painful to the eyes ; added to which there 
is a great deal of suffering, as it requires intensely cold 
weather to ensure a continuance of snow, for a very short 
excursion. It is bad enough for ladies to be exposed to 
such severe cold in an open sleigh, but to a gentleman, who 
must sit any how, half the time with his feet outside, a 
" sleighing frolic," as it is called, is the poorest sport in the 
world. The jingling of the sleigh-bells is certainly exhi- 
hrating, even the horses are stimulated by the sounds, and 
I can easily imagine that, with a good driver, good horses, 
fur cap, and well protected feet, with a clever companion — 
only one mind — there may be cases when a ride of a few 
miles in a sleigh, by moonlight, would be very agreeable. 

The snow, contrary to my expectation, has not yet melt- 
ed, although the ground underneath is still soft. We have 
continued to thrash rye, and this afternoon we cleaned and 
put in bags all that was finished. The nearest mill is about 
a mile west of us, but there was not daylight enough to 
send the rye there this afternoon, which I was sorry for? 
as it breaks in upon the best part of the day to carry it away 
in the morning. A farmer should always contrive to send 
his teams on errands in the afternoon, as a man does almost 
as much again work in the morning as he does after dinner- 

I have seen something to-day which has perplexed me 
quite as much as the sand-piping of summer, and the ice 
prisms of this winter, From the house to the wood-shed; 



118 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

there is a closely clipped hedge of cedars, a narrow walk is 
on the south side of this hedge, raised a little, that the feet 
may be kept dry. In walking on it this morning, I observ- 
ed that the snow, which still lay thick there, was tinged 
with a beautiful, bright grass green colour. At first I thought 
the colour proceeded from the grass itself, which I presum- 
ed lay underneath the snow, but on kicking up the snow I 
saw that no grass was to be seen. Then I was persuaded 
that the sleet which fell during part of yesterday, had 
washed off some of the colouring matter of the cedar bushes, 
particularly as the colour of the snow became dense and 
darker when I pressed my foot on the green spots.^ Although 
this was a subject for speculation, still, as I could com.pre- 
hend it, I was not much struck by the circumstance, until 
I saw the same appearance in front of the spring-house, 
where there were no cedars or evergreens of any kind. 
I walked backwards and forwards, examining every object 
closely, but saw nothing which could possibly have tinged 
the snow. My mind immediately reverted to the coloured 
snow so often described by travellers, and I suspected that 
the colouring matter which tinged the snow in both m- 
stances— the one red and the other green— were effects of 
the same cause, but whether an atmospheric deposition, 
or an emission of coloming matter from the earth, I 
could not teU. In this state of suspense I remained until 
afternoon, examining aU the patches of snow around the 
house, for by this time the greater part had melted, but m 
no place was the beautiful green snow visible, excepting m 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, ll^ 

the two above described. Determined to satisfy myself, if 
possible, I went to the spring-house, and with a shovel, 
pushed the snow aside — I saw that there was a deep layer 
of tan underneath, and I at once ascribed the origin of the 
colouring matter to this cause. In no other spot but around 
the spring-house, and on the walk to the wood-house, had 
I put any tan, and to corroborate the supposition, I recol- 
lected that tanned hides often had the porous and imperfect 
parts tinged with the same colour. 

One important part of the phenomenon was therefore 
explained, but there is yet a difficulty to overcome. The 
question is, ororather the questions are, what power ejected 
this green colouring matter — was the emission at once, and 
suddenly, after the snowing had ceased, or was it slow — 
keeping pace with the layers of flakes as they fell. That 
it pervaded or tinged the whole depth of snow, which, 
when I observed the phenomenon, was about an inch, and 
from that to two inches, thick, there could be no doubt, as I 
took up thin layers on my knife^ and laid them on a piece of 
white paper, when the colour could be distinctly seen ; nor 
did the density of colour increase as I approached the bot- 
tom ; it appeared to be equally distributed. 

It is my opinion, that the expulsion of this colouring mat- 
ter from the tan, was sudden, that the power which ejected 
it is limited, its influence only extending to a certain height, 
and that this power varies in capacity, according to the 
latitude in which it exists ; but whether it be ejected by 
the electric or the magnetic fluid, or whether it be caused 



120 ' OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

by the sudden extrication of latent heat during the conge' 
lation of the fluids which the upper surface contains, is 
doubtful : I am inclined to adopt the former supposition — 
electric or magnetic influence, — as phenomena of a 
spontaneous character occurred in two other instances, 
namely, the sand-pipings of summer and the prismatic 
icicles of winter. In the three phenomena they all occurred 
under similar peculiarities : the soil, in every case, was 
porous and loose. In the sand-pipings, it took place at the 
sides of the ridges where potatoes were planted, which 
particular part is always known to be light and crumbling ; 
in the projected icicles, it occurred :n the light, spongy 
soil of a clover field ; and in the third instance, it proceeded 
from the loiver sides of the tan-walk, and in little hollow 
spaces around the spring-house, where the feet had not 
trodden the tan to a certain compactness. I have never 
seen any of these phenomena in a hard, well beaten soil or 
substance ; the snow on the centre of the little tan- walk, 
Tfr'hich was hard, had no tirge of the green colour. 



ODR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 121 



LETTERXX. 

Dr, Bentley called here this morning, and I read to him 
what I had written on the subject of the three phenomena. 
He had never seen the exhibition of green coloured snow ; 
hut he had often, he said, noticed the perforations in certain 
loose soils, and the icicles in spongy grass fields. It had 
never occurred to him to investigate the matter, which he 
would have done had he not always been accustomed to 
see them. He regretted exceedingly that I had not sent 
for him ; and finally, we both mounted our horses to search 
for some favourable spot, where the snow might still be 
found near a tan-heap. As we knew of no person who had 
a tan-walk within two miles, excepting myself, we pro- 
ceeded to Moreland, where there were two tanneries ; and 
luckily for the Doctors curiosity, under an unfrequented 
shed, where a heap of tan lay, we saw the same green 
snow. Mr. Barclay, the tanner, said he had very frequently 
seen this green snow ; but, as he knew it was caused by 
the colouring matter of the tan, and that tan had the capa- 
city of imparting this green colour to other materials beside 
snow, he never looked upon it as being extraordinary. Of 
course we did not go into any philosophical discussion 
before Mr. Barclay; so we proceeded to Wicklowe, the little 

11 



122 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

manufacturing town which I formerly mentioned to you. A 
very respectable chjmiist is at the head of one of the cotton 
establishments ; and we carried some of the coloured snow 
with us, that he might analyze it. Unluckily he was from 
home: all that was left for us, therefore, was to let the snow- 
melt and put it in a vial, well corked, and leave particular 
orders with Mrs. Elmer, the chymist's wife, to have the 
contents of the bottle examined. 

Just as I ascended West Hill, with the intention of break- 
fasting with Dr. Bentley, I met him on the road, taking his 
usual morning ride. He was so full of the subject of the 
green snow, that I agreed to go with him to Wicklowe. He 
returned with me, and after a hasty meal, we proceeded to 
Mr. Ehners, the principal of the cotton manufactory*. When 
near Wicklowe, we overtook a covered wagon, having a 
lady in front as a driver. This proved to be Mrs. Bell: she 
evidently intended to stop and speak to us, but seemed pre- 
vented by some one behind her, in the carriage. I cannot 
account for my feelings ; but let the cause be what it may, 
I must confess that I am always unusually excited when 
the grand- daughter of this lady is mentioned. In the present 
instance, no sooner had Dr. Bentley suggested that Miss 
Beverly — for why should T call her by any other name than 
her own — was m the wagon, than I set my horse on a full 
gallop back again, up hill, as if to get out of the very at- 
mosphere of the lady. Dr. Bentley, not seeing my haste, 
rode no by the side of the wagon ; and when they were at 
the bottom of the hill, he dismounted, as if to speak to the 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 123 

person within. I waited full fifteen minutes, and then saw 
the Doctor mount his horse hastily, and gallop towards 
Wicklowe, without seeming to recollect that he had left a 
companion behind. 

I rode to West Hill farm, therefore, alone and ar- 
rived in time to assist Mrs. Bentley and Miss Sidney from 
their caniage. " Where is the Doctor ?" was the first salu- 
tation. " We have been at your house," said Mrs. Bentley, 
" in pursuit of him." I saw that they were both out of 
spirits, and strange to tell, I felt so depressed that I could 
hardly answer them. As soon as I mentioned that he had 
gone forward with the wagon in which we saw Mrs. Bell, 
and that the Doctor imagined Miss Julia to be with her, 
the countenances of both ladies cleared up. " I am 
rejoiced that he overtook them," said Miss Sidney, " his 
promptness and decsion will effect something." 

"It is the strangest piece of business in the world, and 
there is no way of accounting for it," said Mrs. Bentley — 
" but sit down, Mr. Allen ; we are both a little flurried at 
the singular event which has just taken place at Lee Cot- 
tage. What is your opinion ?" 

" You must recollect, madam, that T am entirely unac- 
quainted with the event to which you allude. You know 
that I have never seen Miss Beverly." 

" There is no use in disguising the thing, I presume, as 
by this time it must be generally known — Miss Beverly 



124 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

and her singular guardian, are about sailing for Eng-- 
land. 

'-'Her guardian — Who is her guardian 1 — not Mr. North^. 
surely." " Mr. North," exclaimed both ladies, Miss Sidney 
blushing deeply. — " No," said Mrs. Bentley — " her guar- 
dian is her grandmother. What made you think of Mr. 
North?" 

Just at this moment in came Mr. Haywood and Andrew. 
" Where is the Doctor ?" said the former — what, out ?— 
how unlucky, and Mr. Parr has gone the other way — I 
learn that Miss Bell has been carried off by her strange 
old grandmother, and that she goes very much against 
her inclination." 

" We have just heard the same thing ; Dr. Bentley is 
with them at any rate, and he will see no violence done to 
poor Julia. How did you hear it, Mr. Haywood ?" 

" Why Andrew went to Wicklo we, early this morning, to 
take butter and eggs to the ship Belleflower, and he there 
heard by accident that Mrs. Bell, of Lee Cottage, and her 
grand-daughter, had taken passage for Liverpool. I 
thought the thing very strange, and Stephen, who is a very 
warm friend of the poor young orphan— indeed for that mat- 
ter, so we all are— rode over to the Cottage to see if it 
were true, and there he found your Dinah, Mr. Allen, cry- 
ing bitterly, with her head lying on poor Julia's pillow." 

" My Dinah ! w^hy what had she to do with the lady of 
Lee Cottage 1" 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 125 

''* Why Dinah once belonged to the lady's family, and 
had a very great fondness for her young mistress. I would » 
rather lose a thousand pounds than let Miss Julia leave 
America." 

Mr. North now joined us ; he had been looking for me, 
and appeared very much excited — " The Doctor is not in, 
I hear. Mr. Allen, will you," said he, " lend me a hundred 
dollars for three months ? — Miss Bell is about to leave the 
country in an hour or two, and she is too delicate to travel 
without a person more accustomed to sea voyages than her 
grand-mother — I have persuaded Mrs. Roseby to accom- 
pany her, and I want the money to pay her passage. I 
have enough for myself" 

" Yourself! — why surely you are not going with her ?" 
" Yes, I am so circmnstanced with respect to this young 
lady, that as a humane person and a man of honour, I must 
accompany her." 

He did not look at the ladies, nor indeed had he noticed 
them, excepting by a slight bow as he entered. I obtained 
a check on the Wicklowe Bank from Mrs. Bentley, and 
filled it up with one hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. Nortli 
nodded his head, and gave me a draft on Mr. Pell, one of 
his vestrymen, for the amount. He bowed hastily, and I, 
accompanied by the other gentlemen, walked with him to 
the door. Mrs. Roseby was seated in a carriage, surround- 
ed by trunks and packages, looking very happy, and as I 
approached the door to shake hands ^vith Mr. North, he 
turned, and seeing that Mr. Haywood and Andrew were 

11* 



126r OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

not near^ he said — " Mr. Allen, I may as well tell you in a 
few words what must be known shortly — I am, in reality, 
the sole guardian to Julia Beverly, and at her father's deaths 
which happened several years ago, I bound myself to be- 
come the husband of his orphan child, if her grandmother 
attempted to remove her from America. The old lady 
sent for me this morning, before day, to say that she was 
about to sail in a few hours, for Liverpool, requesting me 
to keep a box of papers for her, which she had sent by the 
bearer. That it was her grandchild's ^vish to go v/ith her,, 
to which she presumed I could have no objection. I saw 
Miss Beverly immediately, and found that Mrs. Bell had 
been contriving some absurd tale to influence her grand- 
daughter — extreme poverty was one part of it — the other — 
but I will write to you. If I sail \vith them, it must be as- 
the husband of Julia Beverly. I will candidly confess to 
you, Mr. Allen, that my thoughts have been wandering to- 
wards another lady, and therefore I have no great desire 
to wed^ — even one as lovely as Miss Beverly." 
" May I say all this to the ladies within ?" 
" Yes, all but my being in love, or rather — no, Mr. Allen, 
keep my secret ; I am acting a very undignified part for a 
clergyman — ^but we have our frailties as well as others. 
God bless you." 

The carriage door closed, and off they drove, Mr. Hay- 
wood and Andrew having entered the house again, when 
they saw that Mr. North had something to say apart. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 127 



LETTER XXI. 

The ladies looked very anxiously at me as I entered, and 
I told them at once all that had passed, both when at More- 
land and at the door when parting with Mr. North. They^ 
were perfectly amazed — none more so than Miss Sidney, 
who was pale enough now to convince me that she was be- 
ginning to feel interested in Mr. North's proceedings. 

Mr. Haywood, after musing some time, exclaimed, " I 
do not understand all this romance ; Mr. North is a sensi- 
ble man, and of good character, independently of his being 
a clergyman, but still he may act absurdly in such matters^ 
as these ; so son Andrew, if you have no objection, why, wc 
too, will ride to Wicklowe, and see how this thing is to end. 
Mr. Allen, will you go along ?" 

" Go — do go, Mr. Allen," said Mrs. Bentley — " poor Ju- 
Ua must not marry Mr. North merely because he promised 
her father that he would — go and marry her yourself," 
continued she, laughing ; " I have heard of quite as strange 
a thing as that." 

" Mr. North might think me intrusive," said I, " he did 
not seem to have a wish that I should accompany him to 
the ship." 

" Now, Andrew," exclaimed the father, " if that has not 
been the errand of old Mr. Saxeweld, our minister. He 
borrowed our covered wagon yesterday, and I wondered 



128 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

how he was to use it, as his arm is still so lame that he 
camiot drive. Was it of a bottle green colour, with a black 
canvas stop 1" 

" Yes," said I, " and now I recollect, the Jiorse did look 
like the sorrel that Mr. Saxeweld rides." 

" Then, as sure as fate, he is with them, and he is as 
expeditious as possible in these matters — come, Mr. Allen, 
let us be off. If the marriage is to take place, we may as 
well witness it in case of accidents. 

" Wait, sir," said Mrs. Bentlej, " I will go too. Char- 
lotte, if you feel lonesome, send for Miss Wells." She then 
whispered to her, and as the horses had not, by Mrs. Bent- 
ley's desire, been taken from the carriage, we all departed 
together. 

You know, my dear cousin, that I am not a very off- 
hand sort of person, and that I have no romance about me ; 
you will, therefore, wonder how I could have been prevail- 
ed upon to make one of so strange a party. I assure you 
I felt silly enough when we alighted at the little inn where 
we expected to find our friends. I remonstrated in vain 
with Mrs. Bentley ; she said she would explain the whole 
matter to Mr. North, and my presence would not be consi- 
dered as impertinent. As I positively refused to intrude on 
the party until Mr. North, at least, was apprized of my be- 
ing there, I was ushered into a little back room occupied 
by a young person, the daughter of the innkeeper, I was 
told, and without any ceremony I took a seat and began 
to read a newspaper. I soon became deeply absorbed in 
an account of the falling in of a coal mine while upwards of 



t)UR NEIGHBOURHOOB. ' 12^ 

one hundred and seventy miners were at work in it. " They 
ought to settle an annuity on the biave man who saved the 
lives of so many persons," said I, raising my head for the 
first time, forgetting for an instant that my companion was 
a stranger. The young lady just cast a look at me, and 
then resumed her occupation — she was writing, and her 
hair, as she stooped over the paper, had partly fallen down 
and shaded her face. I never in my life saw such a pro- 
fusion of fine auburn hair, nor did I ever see a more exqui" 
sitely shaped hand. I was growing quite anxious to see 
her face, when I heard Mrs. Bentley's voice at the door, de^ 
siring admittance. I wondered that she did not come in 
without requiring that the door should be opened for her, 
but it was locked. " Can you tell, madam," said I, turning 
to the young lady, " how this door came locked." " No, 
sir," said a soft, gentle voice, and I looked for the raising of 
the lady's head, but she went on writing very fast. 

" Mrs, Bentley," said I, " some one has locked me in, by 
mistake I presume-^you will be kind enough to find who 
has the key." 

" Locked in ! — ^you must have locked yourself in, Mr. 
Allen, for there is no one on this side of the house that 
would do it. Who is with you ? 

" Indeed I do not know— but there is a young lady here> 
who must be very desirous of being alone." 

The young lady arose and rung the bell, a young wo- 
rhan entered with a candle, the letter was sealed, and the 
same soft musical voice desired that the door should be un- 
locked, that I might go out. The young woman, in leaving 



130 OUR NE1GHB0URH00I5, 

the room, struck her foot against the leg of a table, in conse- 
quence of which the flame of the candle caught her hand- 
kerchief, which blazed immediately. I flew to her assistance, 
as did my companion, and the burnt article was torn from 
the girl's neck in a trice. The poor thing was excessively 
frightened, and but for the soothings of the young lady, 
would have fainted. When the girl was a little composed, 
I had leisure to look at the beautiful creature by my 
side. I have spoken of her fine haii*, and of her exqui- 
sitely shaped hand, but I can give you no idea of the 
loveliness of her face. I am unable to say of what colour 
her eyes are, as I did not dare to look at them, but I beheve 
they are a dark blue ; and such a noble forehead, and such 
a delicate complexion, and such pearl-like teeth, I never saw. 
I had often heard of the handsome daughter of the Wick 
lowe innkeeper, but I never dreamed of such a perfect 
beauty — ^but what a name — Rachel — Rachel Stokes. 

" Did you never see Rachel Stokes," said Mrs. Bentley, 
" when we were on oiu: way here 1 Well, I can tell you 
that she is an exceedingly pretty, and a very modest, good 
girl. I will contrive that you shall see her." So I pre- 
sume that the thing was preconcerted^ — not that Mrs. Bent- 
ley intended Miss Rachel to be in the secret, but that I 
should see her in the way I did. 

I summoned up courage to ask the lady if her hand 
was not scorched. She looked at it and said " Yes, I will 
wrap it up in cotton, and it will be well in an hour or two."" 
She curtsied, arid disappeared at the back door, as Mr& 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 131 

Bentiey unlocked the one through which I entered. What 
she said I could not recollect, as I was stupified and embar- 
rassed. She looked at me with amazement — " What is 
the matter, Mr. Allen ?" said she ; "are you not well ?" — 
" Not well ! — yes, well enough — but I have seen a beauti- 
ful apparition. Exceedingly pretty, did you say, madam ? 
— I think she is transcendently beautiful. I presume you 
locked the door that I might gaze on the lady unob- 
served?" 

'• / locked the door ! — no such thing — Mr. Stokes locked 
it himself in passing through the front room. What his 
object was, I cannot say, but I am sure he never dreamed 
that you were in the room with his daughter. But have 
you no curiosity to learn how we have succeeded in our 
little adventure ?" " What adventure ?" said I, not yet re- 
covering from my confusion. — " Well, this passes belief — 
You, who are such a stoic — so incurious, so little prone to 
fall in love, you become deeply enamoured at first sight, of 
a girl in a very humble station, and with little or no educa- 
tion ? Charlotte Sidney, Miss Kitty, and Maria Wells will 
be in perfect amazement. If you had seen our paragon in 
the next room, there might be some foundation for your rap- 
ture. Come with me and let me introduce you to her." 

" Well, madam, since you have awakened me, pray how 
have you succeeded. Is Miss Beverley to go to England ?" 

" Yes, she is to go, but she is to go unmarried. Mrs. 
Roseby is to accompany her ; and she takes letters enough 
to ensure her a respectable reception there." 



132 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

" But what is the object of the journey ? for I presume 1 
must ask this question, although I have no right to make 
it." 

" Her object, or rather the object of her grand-mother, is 
to try to recover some property which she says belongs to 
her grand-child, and that she only waited until she was eigh- 
teen, when a formal demand could be made. Mr. North 
very honourably offered to fulfil his part of the obligation ; 
but, luckily for him, the lady has released him. She accepts 
of the services of Mrs. Roseby, and they set out in the ship 
Belleflower, early to-morrow. Mr. North still retains the 
right of guardianship, much to the discomfort of Mrs. 
Bell, who wishes to have uncontrolled power over 
Julia. There is some mystery about Lee Cottage, which 
I cannot comprehend: Mrs. Bell was at one time quite anx- 
ious to sell it, but now she has made a singular request — 
one that you are interested in, sir ; she wishes that it may 
be tenanted during her absence, and that your Dinah should 
be the tenant. Here is a letter to you — but come, it is 
time to look after our friends ; they have all been asking 
for you." 

I went with Mr. Bentley to the parlour, where I found 
Mr. Haywood and Andrew, both looking very unhappy : 
they were rather sorry that the marriage did not take 
place, as the young lady would then have a better protec- 
tor. " I really feel very unwilling to let Miss Julia go," said 
the good natured Andrew ; " and I only wish that my 
father could afford to send either James or Frederick with 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 133 

her : young as they are, they would be a sort of protection 
to her." 

Mr. North then entered. He handed me a letter from 
Mrs. Bell, which contained the request hinted at by Mrs. 
Bentley. She begged for an answer immediately ; but I 
wished first to ascertain whether I could get another servant 
to supply the place of Dinah. 

" There is your Peter's wife," said Mr. Haywood, " a 
very decent body : she has worked a great deal, off and on, 
for my wife, and that is a recommendation, for she is very 
particular." So I begged Mrs. Bentley to assure Mrs. Bell, 
that Dinah should occupy the Cottage until the first of 
April. Here the matter rested. Mr. North brought the 
ladies' excuses for not paying their respects ; saying that 
Miss Beverly had been so much agitated that she was 
unfit to see any body. 

For my part, my head was so filled with the image of 
the beautiful girl with the ugly name, that what the party 
around me were sajdng appeared like a dream, or like an 
affair in which I had no interest. I was busily employed in 
contriving an excuse to get into the little back room again ; 
and at last could hit on no better expedient than the paltry 
one of looking for my glove : unfortunately I had them both 
in my hand, which Mrs. Bentley's keen eye soon detected, 
as she did my restless and uncertain manner. She arose 
to go ; and, as if suspecting my motive, she wrote a line on 
a slip of paper, and asked me if I would take it to Miss 
Rachel Stokes, with her compliments. 



12 



134 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

I very readily obeyed her; and on knocking at the doOf, 
a gentle voice bade me enter. Miss Stokes was sitting 
in the same place, leaning pensively on the table. She 
arose as I approached her, and opened the note which 1 
gave her. I had a full view of her face : I thought it was 
even more beautiful than when I first saw it, but I could 
not describe it even so well as I might have done then ; for 
there is something of awe in one's feelings when near so 
much loveliness. 

What the few words were, which Mrs. Bentley sent by 
me I knew not, but they had the effect of making the lady 
blush deeply. At length she said, " Mrs. Bentley is desi- 
rous of having a lock of my hair. Not in this note does 
she ask for it, what she now requests is quite a different 
affair, and is out of my power to grant. " Here is the hair,'' 
giving me a sealed parcel, " and here is something, certain- 
ly not equivalent to what she now asks, but it is all that I 
can with any propriety give." She curtsied and left the 
room, lea\'ing in my hand the little sealed parcel and a silk 
watch-guard. 

I am sure that I was full five minutes standing in the 
same position, and was only roused by the approach of Mr, 
North, who told me that Mrs. Bentley was waiting for me. 
I hurried the little parcel and the guard in my pocket, and 
took my seat by her in the carriage. She was weeping. 
"I am very unhappy," said she, " at the parting with one so 
lovely and innocent. You have no idea, Mr. Allen, how 
much this young lady is beloved by us all. Dr. Bentley 
will feel the separation even more than I do, for he has been 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 135 

with her almost every day for the last three months. He 
is now closeted with Mrs. Bell. I have no doubt that 
he has at length prevailed on her to make a statement of 
her affairs, but what induces her to take this voyage, 
at this inclement season, no one can imagine. The 
Doctor does not credit what she says about the recovery of 
property, and he has been strenuous in urging Mr. North 
to exert his authority in preventing her from carrying Julia 
with her. We wished to keep her with us whilst her 
grandmother went to England ; but, poor child ! after shed- 
ding abundance of tears, she declined the offer herself. 
She has but this one relation in the world, and she thinks 
it barbarous to let her go alone. But pray, Mr. Allen, 
what did Miss Rachel say to my scrap of a note." 

I gave her the sealed parcel and the guard. " Is this all 
the gipsey sent me, was there no note, no message ?" 

*' Yes, there was a message, but I am not very clear 
about it — all that I can recollect is, that she could not com- 
ply with your request, but that she sent you a watch-guard 
as an equivalent." 

" And what is in this parcel 1 It is so prettily sealed 
that I hate to open it — a lock of hair, is it ? — ^well, she 
might have known that I have one of hers already — you 
may keep it yourself, Mr. Allen — and as to the guard, that 
is designed for you. She could not send me what I asked 
for — sometime or other I will let you in the secret, but what 
I did ask for was for you. Did she blush very much when 
she read the note ?" 



136 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

" I do'not understand all this, Mrs. Bentley — Did you not 
say that Miss Stokes was uneducated V 

" Yes, I did say so — what then ?" 

" Why, you do not want me to fall in love with her, do 
you ?" 

" Fall in love with Miss Stokes, what put that in your 
head 1 But here we are at West Hill, and there is Char- 
lotte and Miss Wells, looking as impatient at our delay, as 
women ought to look. Charlotte looks miserably pale, 
does not she ?" 

" Yes, but when she hears that Mr. North is not married, 
she will recover her looks — Miss Wells looks rosy enough, 
now that Andrew Haywood has alighted — ^My dear Mrs. 
Bentley, you see that I am not altogether so stupid as you 
imagine." 

" I will bet any thing, that you did not find all this out 
yourself. — Well, Charlotte, to tell you every thing in one 
word, Mr. North is neither married, nor engaged, nor going 
to England ; so if either of you young ladies are disposed 
to attract him, there is no obstacle in the wa,y. Mr. An- 
drew Haywood is the gentleman, who is to accompany'- 
Miss Beverly to England.'^ 

It was now Miss Wells's turn to look pale ; but kind-heart- 
ed Mr. Haywood, seeing this, and his son's confusion, shook 
his head at Mrs. Bentley, who no doubt said this to punish 
Miss Wells for her prudery towards Andrew, 

** No, Miss Wells," said the honest old gentleman, " my 
son is not going to England, although it would have been 
a clever thing — if this poor young lady — Miss BeU — had a 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 137 

protector. I am only sorry that, I could not afford to send 
my James with her. He is very young, but as clear- 
headed as his brother Andrew. You need not blush so^ 
my son. I certainly forgot that you were by, but it is the 
truth ; Mrs. Bentley knows I often depend on your judg- 
ment. But what has become of Mr. Parr 1 He went off 
in a great hurry just as we reached the door. Did you 
see him, Mr. Allen ?" 

" No," said I, blushing, for I had completely forgotten 
that gentleman. " I now recollect that you said he was 
be at the inn, but I did not even see Dr. Bentley." 

" But you saw Mrs. Bell and Miss Julia?" 

" No, I did not, and I am glad of it; for now I feel less at 
losing her. I have never seen her." 

" Nay, now you joke," said Mr. Haywood. " I am sure 
you saw her this morning, in Mr. Stokes's little back room." 

It was in vain that I protested to the contrary ; the old 
gentleman was incredulous. " What," said he, " did you 
not assist her in pulling off Miss Stokes's shawl when it 
took fire T 

" No," said I, " but I assisted Miss Rachel Stokes in 
pulling off the handkerchief of a servant girl." 

" Now, Mrs. Bentley, did you ever hear the like. I saw 
Miss Rachel Stokes just after the accident happened, and 
she told me the whole affair ; that she awkardly set her 
shawl on fire with a candle, as she was leaving the room ; 
that Miss Julia, who had been writing a letter to Mr. North, 
flew to her assistance ; and that she and you put the fire 
out. Now what do you say ?" 

12* 



138 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" Say !" said I, with a look of transport ^ " if what ycnj 
say be true, then /\idll follow Miss Beverly to England and 
to the world's end. Mrs. Bentley, is this true?" Mrs. 
Bentley, who had been whispering to Miss Charlotte during 
this dialogue, now turned to me, laughing. " It is all true, 
Mr. Allen. You have several times accused me of being 
fond of mystery, so I was determined to let you be in the 
right about it. I went into the room where my husband, 
Mr. North, and Mr. Pan*, were in close argument with 
Julia's grandmother. I understood that she was in the 
back room writing. I went to her, and begged her not to 
let you understand who she was ; and I likewise told Miss 
Rachel to lock the door on the outside, lest some one 
should enter and call Julia by name. I wanted to see how 
you would act on such an occasion." 

''Well, madam, and what is your impression: how have 
I acted?" 

" Why, you have acted as a man over head and ears 
in love would act. You have been very silly and very dull.'* 

" Thank you: and now may I ask what it was that you 
wrote on the slip of paper, which caused the young lady to 
blush so deeply ?" 

" Nay, that I do not choose to tell. But now that yoa 
have really seen our paragon, what do j'^ou think of her ?" 

" "Why I think her the most perfect of hum.an beings ; 
and I will move the ocean rather than let her go to Eng- 
land. I will see her again this day, that I am determined. 
How could you take such pleasure in tormenting me. I 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 139* 

felt that my heart was irrevocably gone ; and yet the idea 
of Rachel Stokes, the innkeeper's daughter, was misery. 
I never believed it possible that any one could be so sud- 
denly overpowered by this passion — this love — and Miss 
Beverly does not even know the name of the person who 
sat with her this morning." 

" Yes, indeed, she does ; and — nay, Charlotte — I will 
tell him all. She has often seen you, here, in this very 
room, and at Lee Cottage, too, she saw you ; but she has 
had so much distress of mind ever since you came amongst 
us, that we never could prevail on her to join any of our 
httle parties. I made her take a peep at you through that 
sash window — very much against her inclination, though." 

I had a thousand schemes in my head to prevent Miss 
Beverly from leaving the country. Some I communicated 
to the ladies, but they were rejected as hopeless. Mr» 
Haywood and Andrew now took leave, after partaking of 
some refreshment ; and I also determined on going as soon 
as I could get a letter of introduction. 

"If you succeed in detaining JuHa," said Miss Sidney ,. 
" I will make you a handsome present." 

" And so will I," said Miss Wells. 

" Make me no present, my dear young ladies, but make 
me a promise." 

" Well, we do. What promise must we make ? It 
must be one that will not interfere with my intention of 
going back to England. I only wish I were ready, — I 
would go with Julia." 



140 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

"You must both promise not to trifle one moment with 
your lovers, after you have ascertained that they have won 
your affections." 

" Well, well, go your ways. Mr. Allen. Prevent Julia 
from going to England, and you will find us no triflers 
when we are properly asked : but an Englishman, and 
one who is to reside in England, must ask me." " And 
I marry no farmer, Mr. Allen, remember that," said Miss 
Wells, " although I am not so desii'ous of marrying an 
Englishman as Miss Sidney is." 

" Come back," said Mrs. Bentley, " and eat supper witU 
U5 : we have all fared miserably to-day." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 141 



LETTER XXII. ^ . v ^ 

I RODE home, made my toilet, talked of Miss Beverly to ' 

Dinah, who laughed and cried by turns, and then proceeded 
direct to Wicklowe again. It was dusk. Mr. Parr had been 
gone some time. The other gentlemen were still in the 
parlour, suprised at my return, and still more at the wild 
scheme of attempting to alter Mrs. Bell's plans. I begged 
to see Miss Beverly, but first I had to endure their jokes 
on the little trick that had been played. I was finally 
asked into the same little back room, and was just going 
to present my letter to the lady, who was sitting near the 
fire, when I saw that it was not the one I sought. It was 
Miss Stokes. Now that my attention was directed to her, 
I could see that she was quite a pretty-looking girl : I in- 
quired whether she were scorched by the flame ; she said 
no, but that theyoung lady had burnt her hand a little. I 
told her to tell the lady that I was very anxious to see her ; 
that I had a letter firom Mrs. Bentley, which I begged to 
deliver into her own hands. 

In a few moments Miss Beverly came. Notwithstand- 
ing her embarrassment at seeing me, she could not help 
smiling; but she made quite fight of the burnt hand, 
wluch was, however, still wrapped in cotton. She shook 



142 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

her head and laughed while reading the letter. " May 1 
ask why you laugh, Miss Beverly ?" " Yes : Mrs. Bent- 
ley has made so strange a request, that I cannot help 
smiling, although I am sick enough at heart at the thought 
of leaving her and all my kind friends." 
'■-* * ' " Mrs.* feentfty begged M^to say that she will take an 
early breakfast, and be with you, in the hope of your 
changing your mind." 

" My grandmother is aged and infirm, Mr. Allen. She 
insists on my accompanying her, and I should, under any 
circumstances, be unhappy if I remained behind. I dread 
the voyage, in the first place, and I have no friends in Eng- 
land to receive me when I get there." 

"But," said I, "if your grandmother preferred to go 
alone, would you not of choice remain here ?" 

" Yes, I certainly should, if Mrs. Roseb}^ were to accom- 
pany her. Mr. North kindly offered to go in my place, 
but my grandmother would not hsten to it. I have a letter 
to write," continued she, blushing. "I must therefore 
leave you ; and the remainder of the evening I must de- 
vote to Mrs. Parr and Miss Haywood. Our kind friends 
stay with me to-night." 

"And I, Miss Beverly," said I — gathering as much 
courage as I could — " I propose doing the same. Dear 
Miss Beverly, forgive 'my presumption ; although I have 
never seen you before this day, yet your \drtues and your 
loveliness have long been known to me. My heart, which 
has hitherto never kno^wn what it was to love, is conquered, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 143 

^nd I must say, without any desire on my part to prevent 
it. I am not so mad as to ask for love in return ; it is a 
sufficient gratification to be allowed to tell you this ; but I 
do not intend to let you hate me. You will find me hum- 
ble, and desirous of gaining your esteem ; when I have 
secured that, I shall be happy." 

You cannot imagine, my dear Edward, under what per- 
turbation and embarrassment I said all this. I, that have 
been reproached for my shyness and insensibility — I, to fall 
in love at first sight ! — a thing that I have always so utterly 
despised. I was petrified at my own daring, and I ex- 
pected Miss Beverly to discard me at once for my boldness. 

Clara vdll be amazed when she reads this, and wonder how 
it has happened ; and James will deeply sympathize ; while 
you, my dear cousin, will laugh, and say, bravo ! But you 
are waiting to hear what Miss Beverly said to this sudden de- 
claration. She was very much affected, and seated her- 
self, for we were both standing ; and I, in the good old 
fashioned lover's style, knelt and took her hand. " I have 
distressed you. Miss Beverly," said I, " and that I would 
not willingly do for worlds. You are acquainted with 
my character and circumstances ; of this I have been 
assured by our friend, Mrs. Bentley. My declaration is 
abrupt and unexpected, but it is sincere ; your leaving the 
country so soon must be my apology." 

She made me rise, and when her emotion had a little 
subsided, she spoke like an angel, and I resolved never to 
leave her while I had life. She said she felt grateful for 



144 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

my esteem — love she could not call it. The peculiar cir- 
cumstances under which she was placed had, no doubt, 
raised this strong feeling in my bosom ; that she would not 
take advantage of this generous^feeling any further than to 
say that her departure would now give her an additional 
pang, as she should leave another friend to grieve for her. 
She gave me her hand as she said farewell, and on it I so- . 
lemnly vowed that if she did go I would go likewise. 

The fact is, my dear cousin, that I was in a perfect fe- 
ver. Love, admiration, pity, all assailed me by turns, as to 
going into the parlour to the gentlemen, that I found out of 
the question. I walked up and down the little room for some 
time to compose myself, that I might decide on some plan. 
But I had just prudence enough left to feel that it would be 
a wild and unsatisfactory scheme to leave my affairs thus 
suddenly, without the hope even of having my affection re* 
turned. I could at length fix on nothing that seemed to pro- 
mise success, but that of working on the avarice of the old 
lady. 

When I could gather courage, and my mind was 
collected enough for the purpose, I told the servant who 
came at my call, to ask Mrs. Bell if she would allow me 
to say a few words to her on the subject of Lee Cottage. 
The old lady came down immediately, and shook hands 
with me in a friendly manner. 

" I really am glad to see you, Mr. Allen," said she. " I 
wanted to thank you, formally, for your kindness in letting 
youi servant remain in my house. I shall return in four 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 145 

months, and then Dinah can be yours again. She is an 
old family servant, and the only one that I could trust in 
my absence. Is she to be here early in the morning ?" I 
told her I had given her leave to come in the evening, 
and that Peter, my servant, was to bring her. That 
my object in asking to see her was to make her another 
offer for Lee Cottage, as from what I had told my friends 
in England respecting it, I had no doubt that a very 
good price would be given for it. 

She paused a few moments, and then said — " I will just 
tell you the truth about Lee Cottage. It was originally 
mine, and I sold it to Mr. Beverly, my late son-in-law ; of 
course it became his daughter's property after his death. 
Julia has a'great desire to retain the house and grounds, but 
to keep it in the order that it should be, requires more mo- 
ney than I choose to lay out, so every thing is going to 
ruin. I have used every argument and entreaty to induce 
her to consent to sell it, but I have failed. I have at length 
given up the point, on condition that she accompanies me 
to England. I have a brother there who is wealthy, and 
who has offered to give me a large sum for a life annuity 
which I possess ; this money will be a great assistance to 
me, and will, besides, belong to Julia when I am gone. My 
brother has a desire, likewise, to see his grand-niece, and I 
am not sure but lie will make her his heir, for he is an 
old bachelor, and has no other near relation than Julia, and 
another great-niece, Clara Reeves, and myself." 

13 



146 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" Clara Reeves !" exclaimed I, in great surprise. " h 
your brother's name Richard Brooks ? — does he live in 
London?" 

" Yes," said she, very much confused; " his name is 
Brooks ; how came you to know him ?" 

" Why, my dear madam, Clara Reeves is the wife of the 
very gentleman who wishes to buy Lee Cottage — and he 
— Mr. James Morton — would rejoice to own it. But as to 
Mr. Brooks — pardon me, madam — do you know the habits 
of that gentleman 1 How many years is it since you savz 
him? 

" Why, what do you know of him ?" said she, sharply ; 
" he is my brother, and I ought to know something of him : 
he is called a miser, and so am I, for that matter ; but his 
wealth will be none the less welcome to those who will 
get it after him." 

" I have nothing more to say," said I, " but that I have 
now an additional interest in wishing you well. I shall in 
future consider myself as entitled to offer you my services. 
The old lady did not seem at all elated by the acknow- 
ledgment of the relationship : she made no remarks, but 
after a pause, asked me what I had to offer for the Cottage. 
I said that I would venture to give four thousand dollars, 
being one thousand more than she asked. 

"Make it five thousand dollars," said the avaricious 
woman ; " and then, if you can get Julia's consent, I will 
let you have it." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 147 

" But even if Miss Beverly consent, there will be no 
time to execute a deed." 

" No, that is true ; I am sorely perplexed : however, 
Mr. Allen, give me this offer in writing, and I will have 
the business arranged on my return." 

I said that this could not be ; but the better way was, 
if Miss Julia consented to sell the house, to let her remain, 
and then she and her guardian, Mr. North, could arrange 
it satisfactorily. And I further observed, that I would put 
the whole of the money in her hg-nds before she sailed in 
the morning, so that she might invest it in England, if she 
chose. 

You never saw 'pleasure so strongly . painted on any 
one's face as on hers, at this proposal. "Well," said she, 
at length, "if you will really do this, either in- Spanish dol- 
lars or in bills of exchange, I will certainly leave Julia be- 
hind. But whom shall I leave her with? Both Mrs. Parr and 
Mrs, Bentley want her. They are such extravagant peo- 
ple, however, that I shall have to pay a heavy sum for her 
when I return." 

" Not a farthing, madam. I will answer for it, that you 
will. not have to pay one farthing. Mr. Parr and Dr. 
Bentley are rich ; arid their pride and high standing would 
prevent them firom considering Miss Beverly an incum- 
brance. May I have your permission to consult with your 
grand-daughter?" 

" You are aware, sir, that Mr. North is joined with me in 
the guardianship of Julia." 

" I understood that he was sole guardian." 



148 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

"Not of her property — not of her property. I have 
something to say in that, I fancy: and it had been better if I 
were the sole guardian in all matters ; for that foolish obli- 
gation of marrying, had like to have created a strange 
state of things." 

"I hurried away from the old lady, and went to the two 
gentlemen in the parlour, where we were immediately 
joined by Mr. and Mrs. Parr, and Miss Haywood. You 
cannot imagine with what pleasure my communication 
was received. The ladies hastened to inform Miss Beverly 
of it, and to get her consent to the sale of the Cottage. 
Fearing that they might not represent the thing in the 
point of view in which I wished it placed, I wrote a note,, 
stating, that although the money should certainly be ad- 
vanced to Mrs. Bell in the morning, yet that I did not 
require a deed for the property until her return from Eng- 
land ; that the money was lying idle in the bank ; and that 
I considered it as safe in Mrs. Bell's possession as where it 
was, &c. When I finished the note, I had a little more 
composure of mind, and I could listen to what my friends 
had to say. Dr. Bentley wished me joy on my prospect of 
happiness with so lovely a creature ; but Mr. North hesi- 
tated. " I hope you may succeed in gaining her love, Mr. 
Allen," said he ; " but young as Miss Beverly is, she has 
had several suitors, and some of great worth. It was a 
knowledge of this, as well as from ha\dng always considered 
her as a sister, that I was kept from the misery of falling in 
love with her. Of all men, you, I think, are most likely to 
succeed, as you have been prompt in declaring yourself^ 



■ ' OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 149 

and mean, I presume, to persevere. A timid man would 
make her timid too." 

Mr. Parr acquiesced in this opinion, and I felt as proud 
and happy as if I had gained a kingdom, " I intend," con- 
tinued Mr. Parr, "to give Miss Beverly a handsome pre- 
sent when she marries, for I look upon her as belonging 
to me. My wife and I have been very economical for the 
last year, that we might add to a sum which I have set 
aside for this purpose. I hope you will be the chosen one, 
Mr. Allen, for then we shall keep this excellent creature 
near us." 



13* 



150 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 



LETTER XXIII. 

After all this, my dear cousin, do you wonder at the 
suddenness and violence of my feelings ? All join in loving 
and admiring this faultless creature, and all consent that I 
may aspire to her hand. I hardly think that I was more 
impatient for the return of Mrs. Parr, than the rest ; half 
an hour elapsed, and still neither of the ladies came. A 
step was heard in the hall, and Mr. Parr hastily opened the 
door, but it was a servant, to lay the supper cloth ; at 
length, when our anxieties became so great that Dr. Bent- 
ley determined to go up stairs himself, and use his influence 
with Miss Beverly to come down, several light steps, and 
still lighter voices were heard, and we threw the door wide 
open to admit them. I hoped to see Miss Beverly, but 
she was not with them. I saw, however, that they 
brought good news. 

" Well," said Dr. Bentley. 

" Does she stay ?" said Mr. Pan*, in a tremulous voice. 

« Yes — we have at length conquered all her scruples,, 
and her grandmother sails to-morrow without her. To 
make all sure, although I have no fear of Julia's changing 
her mind, I despatched your Peter, Mr. Allen, with her 
travelling trunk." 

" To my house 1" said Mr. Parr. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 161 

" No," said his wife, " that would have been rather too 
long a ride to-night. I sent it where I presume it will, 
sometime or other, go to remain ' for good,' as the children 
say." 

You may imagine how all this elated me, and I acquiesed 
with greater readiness in the determination of the ladies 
to let Miss Be^f€t\y retire to rest immediately, without 
hearing the truth, the delightful truth, that she was to re» 
main, from her own lips. Miss Haywood left us to join her 
friend, and we all sat down to supper much happier than 
we had hoped to do. 

Mr. Parr said he felt it such a blessing to have the 
dear girl left behind, that he intended to return me the two 
thousand dollars which I had given above the worth of the 
cottage. Both gentlemen gave me great credit for the find- 
ing out the vulnerable point of the old lady. They had 
assailed her on every side, to induce her to leave her grand- 
child, but as for bribing her with money, that never 
occurred to either of them. Mrs. Parr said, laughingly, 

" And thus I won my Genevieve, 
My bright and beauteous bride." 

We separated at eleven o'clock, scarcely finding accom- 
modations for such a large party in the small inn. For my 
part, as I knew I should not sleep, I cared but little for a 
bed. Dr. Bentley and Mr. North occupied one room, 
and I was promised a cot in the room where we supped. I 
am now writing all this to you at the late, or early hour of 
four o'clock ; and having written thus far, I shall throw 



152 OUR NEIGHB0URH0OI>. 

myself on the bed for a couple of hours — good night. I 
should receive your congratulations if you knew the state 
of my affairs just no'^r — ^but is it not very singular that 
Clara should be so nearly connected with my Julia — ^for 
mine she must^e. I shall close this packet and send it by 
the Belleflower. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 163 



LETTER XXIV. ^ 
^^ ?%lf> /^-^^ 

This morning, by eight o'clock, the inn was crowded 
with anxious friends. Mrs. Bentley, Miss Sidney, Mrs. 
Wells and both daughters, Mrs. Thorn and Miss Forbes^ 
and four of the Misses Webb, besides a number of gentle- 
men. 

I had walked out to deposit my packet for you in the 
letter bag, and the two gentlemen, Mr. North and Mr. Parr, 
were at the wharf, attending to the baggage of Mrs. Bell 
and Mrs. Roseby, while Dr. Bentley still lay [indulging 
himself in bed. The ladies were not visible, so that until I 
came in no one knew that Miss Beverly was to remain. 
There was a general burst of joy when I told them, and 
but for the fear of making some mistake, by going into 
wrong rooms, there would have been a rush up stairs. Mrs. 
Bentley, however,, went up, and in a few minutes came 
down, with Mrs. Parr, Miss Haywood, and Miss Beverly. 
Then the most sincere congratulations followed, and the 
sweet girl was oppressed to tears with all this proof of strong 
and ardent affection. 

There was no such thing as eating a regular breakfast, 
as there was scarcely room to set a table, nor was there 
any disposition to eat, but the gentlemen found pleasure 
enough in scrambhng for cups of coffee to present to the la- 
dies who were under their especial care. Stephen Haywood 



154 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

managed to get what he wanted for Miss Webb and her 
sisters, whilst poor Andrew was unable to get a single cup 
for his three friends. Mrs. Parr and Miss Haywood had 
taken their breakfast with Mrs. Bell and Julia, up stairs, 
so that happy I had nothing to do but to lean over the chair 
of the charming girl, and listen to her voice. Mr. Parr set 
by her and took her hand affectionately, scarcely taking 
his eyes from her, but in fact all eyes were upon her, and 
with increased tenderness. I must not omit fo' mention 
that old Mr. Root was there, but for what purpose he came 
no one could imagine, unless it v/erefor fear that some one 
would carry off his ward. 

I was obliged however to leave my enviable post to at- 
tend 4o business. Dr. Bentley, Mr. Parr, Mr. North, 
and I went into another room, where we arranged the 
money transactions with Mrs. Bell, who gave me a paper 
acknowledging the receipt of the five thousand dollars, and 
her obligation to return fom' thousand of if, if any difficulty 
occured about obtaining the deeds, &c. For ray part, I 
cared but little for obligations of any kind, now that I had 
secured my wishes ; but the gentlemen, not being in love, 
took care to have every thing properly arranged ; and by 
ten o'clock all were ready, and the passengers waiting for 
the signal to call them on board. Mr. Parr, to whom every 
body gives way, as a thing of course, went into the parlour 
to bring Miss Beverly to her grandmother to take leave, 
and we would have retired that they might be alone, but 
Mrs. Bell stopped us, by saying that we were all true 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 155 

friends and there was no necessity, besides she had some- 
thing to say before us all. 

Tears rolled down poor Julia's face as she kissed her 
aged relative, who unmoved, embraced and blessed her. 
After looking at her steadily for a moment, she said, "Julia, 
you have been an obedient and affectionate child, and I 
have often appeared harsh and severe to you, ])ut I meant 
every thing in kindness, as you will one day know. , In 
this box, is a copy of my will, and of such poor matters as 
I possess. . It is not much, but at my death it is half yours 
— the other half is for a person whom I hate, and yet I am 
compelled to divide my property between you and her. 
What I have saved by economy is my own to dispose of as 
I hke, I have accordingly given it to you. But here," said 
this eccentric woman — " here, Mr. Parr, are three of the 
five thousand dollars, just given me by Mr. Allen ; invest 
one half of this for my grand-daughter Julia, and the othe r 
half for a person by the name of Ellen Beverly. The re-^ 
maining two thousand, which is in a manner my own, for I 
consider Lee Cottage as fully paid by the the three thousand 
dollars, I wish put out at interest as a marriage portion for 
my grand-daughter Julia. Do you understand me Mr, 
Parr?" ■ \\ 

" Not clearly. What am I to do with the interest of the 
half of the sum — of the fifteen hundred dollars which you 
say must be invested for this Ellen Beverly, and who is the 
lady ? I never heard of her." 



166 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

'* You can let the interest lie, I have nothing to do with 
that — as to the lady, I have never seen her, she has given 
me trouble enough, and I virant to hear of her no more." 

She went down stairs, forbidding Julia to follow her, not 
wishing to be accompanied by any one to the boat, except- 
ing Mrs. Roseby. The gentlemen however went with her 
and saw her safely on board, I staid a few minutes in the 
room v^dth Miss Beverly, after ihem, until the first burst of 
grief was over, and then, on Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Pan's 
€oming into the room, I went down stairs. The vessel 
only waited for Mrs. Bell, and we had the pleasure of see- 
ing them sail with a fine wind, and in a few moments they 
had turned the point and were out of sight. 

When the gentlemen returned from the wharf we pre- 
pared to depart. As to myself, I had determined to take 
Julia under my charge, but I was on horseback, and the dif- 
ferent vehicles would hold no more than those who came in 
them. I mentioned my difficulty to Stephen; but he 
could only suggest the use of old Mr. Root's chaise. 
Miss Emily Forbes came on horseback, and when she 
applied to her guardian for the use of his chaise to 
convey Miss Beverly to her new home ; he said, diily, 
"that either Dr. Bentley or Mr. Parr would contrive 
ways enough to convey the young lady home." But 
repenting of his churlishness, he came soon after to me 
and made me an offer of it, and changing my horse, 
which he was afraid to ride, for Mr. North's, he left us^ 
saying he would stop at West Hill and let the domes- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 157 

tics know what a large party they might expect to dine 
there. 

I was impatient until I had settled it that Miss Beverly 
was to go with me ; but although the carriages were all 
ready, and the old chaise had been some time at the door, 
we could not proceed, as Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Parr 
had gone into one of the shops for some little article that 
they wanted. The weather was cold and raw, and I was 
just on the point of borrowing a cloak of Rachel Stokes to 
wrap around my precious charge, when Mr. Parr entered 
with a fine large quilted cloak, and a pair of fur overshoes. 
No princess ever had so many kneeling at her feet to claim 
the honour of tying on her shoe ; but Mr. Parr obtained 
the right of doing it, and Dr. Bentley of wrapping her 
in her cloak ; and I — the most happy of mortals — X had 
the felicity of having her at my side until we reached 
West Hill. 



14 



158 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOP, 



LETTER XXV. 

You must not expect me, my dear Edward, to give you 
an account of any of my horticultural proceedings, nor 
ask after the fate of the green snow-water. I am not my 
own man at present ; I am in a confused state, and 
can think of nothing but what has a reference to this 
singularly beautiful girl. The little mystery that surrounds 
her — her peculiar bringing up, with so strange a parent, 
and so young a guardian — all combine to make her an 
object of great interest. She was quite passive about 
the arrangement of her return ; but I could see that she 
blushed exceedingly when I took my seat by her side. I 
strove in vain to engage her attention during the ride, but she 
was evidently distressed, and frequently sighed deeply. 
" I am afraid I have done wrong," said she, with a low 
voice and quivering lip ; " my poor grand-mother ! I ought 
not to have left her; I feel that I have not done my 
duty." I endeavoured to calm her by reminding her that 
she would have been rather an incumbrance than other- 
wise, and thrown entirely among strangers in England ; 
whilst she must, in addition to this, be convinced that 
Mrs. Bell's plans were at least eccentric, and, to many of 
her friends, incomprehensible." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 159 

"I know it all, Mr. Allen, and it is the knowledge 
of her forlorn situation which makes me grieve — she 
has not a friend in the world." When we stopped at 
Dr. Bentley's, she was in tears, and was taken up stairs, 
where she begged to remain until next day. Of course I 
could do no more than express my sorrow, and take leave. 
Mr. North accompanied me home; and when sitting 
around my parlour fire, (for I had prevailed on liim to stay 
with me until he could procure lodgings for himself,) I beg- 
ged him to tell me all he knew of Miss Beverly's history. 

" I cannot speak of Julia Beverly," said he, " without 
giving you some little account of myself, as my history is 
in some measure connected with hers — but as there is no- 
tliing very particular in it, I shall not detain you long. My 
- parents died while I was very young, and I was taken to 
the house of an uncle, who, luckily for me, was a sort of 
steward to Mr. Beverly. I thus came early into the notice 
of this gentleman, who, from time to time, interested him- 
self in my education. At that period Julia was about four 
years old, and my chief pleasure was in amusing her. I 
became at length so attached to her, having no relation on 
whom to bestow my affection, that Mr. Beverly approved 
of my being constantly at his house ; and it was at length 
a settled thing that I should have a bed there. I taught 
JuHa to read, and in the four happy years that I was under 
her father's roof, I never kneV what pain or want meant. 
There never was a more liberal man, nor one of a more 
feelino^ heart. No one would ever have imao-ined that I 
wa& other than a son, and for my part, I loved him as one. 



160 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

It is not so strange, therefore, that I did not fail in love v/ith 
Julia, as I looked upon her as a sister ; and in my prayers 
for her welfare, I always petitioned for a husband for her 
deserving of her excellence. This sentiment continued to 
strengthen with my years. I assisted in her education. 1 
imparted to her, in the evening, all that I had learned 
through the day, and in all things I found her apter than 
myself. Mr. Beverly saw this with pleasure, for, as 1 
afterwards learned, he designed to confer on me the honour 
of being Julia's husband. He deemed virtuous principles 
more than a compensation for the want of fortune and birth 
With his consent, I studied for the ministry, and my edu- 
cation w£LS forwarded in the most liberal manner. At the 
age of nineteen, all this was cut off, and my prospects were 
blighted. 

" I was sent for by Julia — her father had been for some 
time ill "with a slow fever, proceeding, no doubt, from a dis- 
tressed mind ; and when I reached him, the disorder had 
taken the form of a typhus. His physicians pronounced 
his case hopeless, and it was then that he made me guar- 
dian to his child ; exacting a promise from us both that, if 
Mrs. Bell, during Julia's minority, insisted on removing her 
to England, we should at once many, and take pos- 
session of the property which he had, in that event, se- 
cured to us. 

I need not tell you of our affliction at the loss of this 
excellent parent. Julia was inconsolable ; and I had yet 
to learn another cause of grief. No sooner had Mr. Beverlj 
breathed his last, than Mrs. Bell took possession of all the^ 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 161 

papers belonging to the estate, producing an old will 
wherein she was empowered to sell the real estate for 
the benefit of her grand-child. The house in the city, 
where we resided in winter, was sold ; and I was told that 
no provision was made for me. My uncle was dead, and 
I had neither friends nor money. I could not, therefore, 
investigate the affair ; neither could I afford to waste time 
in unavailing regrets. I felt very unhappy at leaving poor 
Julia entirely to the care of an imjust and avaricious 
woman ; but I had no alternative. I was compelled to 
prosecute my studies in a more humble way, but I soon 
reconciled myself to poverty. Mrs. Bell took possession, 
likevvise, of Lee Cottage, which was once her own ; but 
Mr. Beverley liking it, he purchased it of her a few 
months before he died. What she has done with the 
money she received for that, as well as for the house in the 
city, I cannot tell. I am of opinion that she has either 
bimed those sums, having first converted them into silver 
or gold, or else has transported them to England. Dr. 
Bentley and I are confident that some of her funds are 
in England, and that they are in jeopardy ; otherwise, she 
would not take a voyage at this inclement season." 

" I discovered that she has a brother m England," said I, 
" and that Clara, my cousin James' wife, is the grand- 
daughter of Mrs. Bell's only sister; consequently she is a 
second cousin to Miss Beverly." 

Mr. North was very much astonished, for Mrs. Bell had 
never breathed a syllable about having a single connexion 
living ; and I had to give him a short history of the old 

14* 



162 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

miser Brooks, and of his endeavours to defraud Clara of her 
patrimony. We were very much perplexed about the per- 
son that Mi's. Bell called Ellen Beverly. Mr. North had 
never heard of .the name ; but there can be no doubt that 
there is such a person ; and that the papers in the box 
given to Julia by the old lady, ^vill explain the mystery. 
We shall have to be patient until the box can be opened. 
For my part, I should have no scruple in looking at the 
contents ; as Ellen Beverly, be she who she vd\\ ought 
certainly to receive what so plainly appears to be her own. 
Will you ask Clara if she ever heard the name ?" 

Mr. North, it seems, on hearing that Mrs. Bell had 
suddenly determined to leave America, with Julia, went 
hastily to Wicklowe, to prevent her from going. He had 
a private interview with Julia ; and the resuli was, that 
they both were willmg to dissolve the marriage contract. 
How fortunate for me was this ! If Miss Beverly had felt 
the least of love in her attacliment to Mr. North, he would 
have thought himself bound in honour to offer her his hand. 
But see how I am running on: I may not be any the 
nearer the heart of this lady, notwithstanding her indiifer 
ence towards her guardian. You must own, however, that 
I have every reason to hope ; for all our fnends had, it 
seems, talked themselves into the belief that Miss Beverly 
and I were destined for one another ; and I hope, as the 
dear girl has often heard this opinion, that she is not very 
repugnant to it. If she were, I think she would have been 
more averse than she appeared to be, when I declared my^ 
love for her. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 163 

My head and heart have been so fully occupied, that I 
am a stranger to my own concerns. I have neglected the 
thermometer and the vane, and have but vague notions of 
my own identity — 

" This love is like a dizziness, 
And unfits one for business." 

I shall, I trust, get sobered down in time. There is such a 
thing, I presume,^ as getting accustomed to this new and 
overpowering sensation. 

Mr. North says that his greatest distress,, on going so far 
from his native place, when he received his first call^ was 
the thought of his leaving his young ward. But there 
was no alternative, as he was absolutely pennyless. He 
had often serious intentions of obliging the old lady to give 
him possession of the papers — which he knew he had a 
right to do. He once hinted the thing to Miss Beverly ; but 
she seemed averse to it, telling him that nothing could ensue 
but vexation and disappointment, as it was her finn belief 
that all the property had been sold, and the money invested 
in English stock. 

From my knowledge of old Richard Brooks, I am 
convinced that he has succeeded in drawing the money 
from his sister's hands, and that he has appropriated 
it to his own use — or rather — not to his use, for he spends 
nothing — but to his own coffers. It may be true, therefore, 
that the old lady had but a slender income, for we all know, 
that but for our vigilance her brother would have kept the 
whole of Clara's fortiuxe. Mr. North says that he will 



164 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

now — on Julia's account — put the affair in the hands of 
some able lawyer here; and I know, my dear Edward, that 
you ^vill give us all the assistance you can. Perhaps, 
when the old miser finds you engaged in the investigation, 
he will not enter into any contest, but quietly make over 
what sums are in his possession. Meantime the poor wo- 
man ^*ill have to be attended to a httle, for the sake both 
of Clara and Miss Beverly, as well as of humanity. 

I am scribbling when I ought to be in bed, for I have 
midergone a great deal of mental excitement, which fa- 
tigues me more than the hardest bodily exercise. Mr. North 
was completely overpowered with sleep at nine o'clock, 
and went to bed. I shall send this letter immediately, but 
I do not think I shall be able to wiite a line for a week to 
come, as I have to ride a great deal about the country, and 
have besides to inquire a httle into my domestic affairs. I 
carmot conceive how men can bear to Hve alone in this 
comfortless maimer. What a deal of trouble a wife takes 
off our hands. I ^nsh you were here, now, more than 
ever. I am hourly expecting a letter from you, but I fear 
you "s\-ill not feel satisfied ^nth the correspondence. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



165 



LETTER XXVI. 

With my head filled with Dr, Bentley's new inmate^ I 
found I could not get on very well with my domestic con- 
cems , every thing in the way of business was distasteful ; 
so, as soon as Mr. North rode over to Moreland, I gave a 
few hurried directions, and went to West EQU. I was just 
in time for a second breakfast, and was received w^ith a 
hearty shake of the hand by the good Doctor, and friendly 
greeting by the ladies. Miss Beverly — ^but I begin to think 
that I shall make myself ridiculous in your eyes if I say 
all that my heart prompts me to, but I only wish you could 
have seen how lovely and conscious she looked when I 
took my seat by her— a place allotted to me by uiianimous 
consent. 

It was agreed that we should ride to Lee Cottage, and 
see Dinah fairly inducted as tenant, with Robin, her bro- 
ther, as protector. For Miss Beverley having hinted, in 
her gentle way, that poor Dinah would feel very lonesome^ 
I suggested the plan of getting her brother to live with 
her. No mention was made of Mrs. Bell ; but as Julia 
rose from her seat to look at the weather, we knew that 
she felt unhappy at the thought that her aged relative was 
exposed to it. Mrs. Bentley withdrew with her to prepare 
for the ride, and the Doctor took this opportunity of con* 



166 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

gratulating me on my skilful arrangement with the oI(J 
lady. 

" You deserve all our thanks," said Miss Sidney ; " for 
we should be feeling very miserable just now if Julia had 
gone with her grandmother." 

" And Mr. North \\dth her," added the Doctor, winking 
at me. 

Miss Sidney, fearing any further raillery, left the room. 

" We are alone, now," said the Doctor ; " I have some- 
thing to say to you. ^Vhat motive could the old lady have 
in wishing Dinah to remain in the house 1 I have my own 
opinion about it, but let me have yours." 

" Why, I have not thought much of it, having my head 
filled with more aorreeable images than an old woman's va- 



£3 
5) 



ganes. 

" Well, we will allow all this ; but now that the tiling is 
brought directly to your senses, what can you make of if?'* 

"As Mrs. Bell does not seem to possess much worldly 
wisdom, which I infer from her having conducted her pe- 
cuniary affairs so ill, I should suppose," said I, " that she had 
something secreted in the cottage — some papers of value 
— perhaps her brother's obligations— or jewels— but I have 
no skill in following up such inartificial intricacies. Every 
thing that Mrs. Bell has done since T knew her, has 
been out of the common way ; and we must let our imagi- 
nation run riot a long time, before we can comprehend her 
plans. I rather imagine that she suspects her brother of 
having an intention of cheating her— and she may suspect 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 167 

Mm, for he is an arrant rogue. Her voyage is no doubt 
intended to ascertain how her brother has disposed of her 
property. She must be ignorant of his character." 

" She is herself a miser," said the Doctor, " and certainly 
dishonest. I think her a woman of bad passions, and at 
times a little out of her mind. What could she mean by 
dividing the property with the person she calls Ellen Be- 
verly ? There is no one of that name. I questioned Julia 
about it this morning. You talk of her secreting papers ; 
for my part, I fancy that she has money concealed. Julia 
says it is upwards of a year since she had any remittances 
from England ; and I know that within that time she sold 
a farm, for which she received five thousand dollars. Now 
I think that this sum is concealed in the cellar ; and, know- 
ing Dinah's honesty, she thought it best to get her to 
live in the house, to prevent any one from prowling about. 
I think it would be no harm to institute a search." 

" Why, if you really suspect there is money hidden, it 
certainly would be right and proper to search ; and if it 
should be the case, it would be far safer to deposit it in the 
bank, than to leave it in an almost unprotected house." 

We agreed, however, to hear what Mr. North had to say 
on the subject, and of course were not to mention oar sus- 
picions to any one until we saw him. The lac?ies came 
down, and we set out ; the Doctor on horseback, and I, the 
happiest of men, seated in the carriage opposite to Julia. 
When we were within three or four hundred yards of the 
cottage, we were obliged to leave the carriage, and walk ; 



168 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

as brambles and thorny shrubs occupied nearly the whole 
of the carriage road, leaving only a narrow path for foot 
passengers. Mrs. Bentley said that it had once been in 
iine order, but since Mrs. Bell had taken this parsimonious 
turn, it was entirely neglected. It was as much as the 
ladies could do to prevent their clothes from being torn to 
pieces by the briars. 

Dinah received us with great pleasure, but expressed 
much surprise at Mrs. Bell's desire that she should remain 
in the house. " I cannot think," said she, " why she wants 
me to stay here, as there is nothing to take charge of but 
a little furniture. All the books and silver are packed up 
in those trunks, and are to be sent to Mr. Saxeweld ; in- 
deed, he has been here already, and has taken away the 
great old fashioned sea-chest." 

" Why, who gave him leave, Dinah ?" 

" The old lady, herself He showed me her orders, and 
he has the keys too of all the rooms and cellars. I am 
sorry for this, as there are some articles in the cellar that I 
know will spoil, for I put them there myself; and I miss 
the cat too — the old tortoise-shell cat, Miss Julia, that" — 

" We must open the cellar door some way or other," said 
Miss Beverly. " I would not have that cat injured for the 
world. My dear father was very fond of her. Do, dear 
sir," said she, to Dr. Bentley, " let Robin go over to Mr. 
Saxeweld, for the key." 

" He will not be back in two hours," said the Doctor ; 
" but can we not get in without the key ?" 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 169 

Dinah whispered to Miss Beverly, who coloured highly, 
and shook her head. We were standing in the parlour, 
which had a sashed door, looking into a lobby ; and Ro- 
bin, who had gone out for some light wood to make a blaze, 
had some difficulty in opening it. I stepped forward, and 
as I pulled at the door, the plank of the floor on which I 
stood seemed to bend. I mentioned it to the Doctor, who 
came forward and passed heavily on it. It gave way, and 
we lifted up the carpet to see what damage was done. 

" Say what you will, Miss Julia," said Dinah, " it is or- 
dered that we should let the cat out of the cellar by that 
dooi— that plank would never have been broken else. I 
wish you would give me leave to say what I know ; mean- 
time Robin can go to Mr. Saxeweld and ask for the keys 
in a regular way." 

Robin was, therefore, despatched with a note, written by 
Miss Beverly, and when he had left the room, Julia, with 
some hesitation, observed that there was a trap door which 
led to the cellar, the bolt of which projected under the piece 
of plank which had just now been broken, but she did not 
know whether she had a right to mention it, as her grand- 
mother did not wish any one to know it. 

■ Without regarding poor Julia's scruples, the quick-mo- 
tioned Doctor found the bolt — pushed it aside, and on 
opening a closet behind the door, he saw the trap door, 
which he was now enabled to open. This was another in- 
stance of the eccentricities of Mrs. Bell. There was no ne- 
cessity for this secret door, as there was one within the house 

15 



170 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

likewise, under the stairs, of which Mr. Saxeweld had the 
key. But we did not wait to discuss this ; we got Dinah 
to precede us, and open a shutter that we might have light, 
when the Doctor and I descended, leaving the ladies above- 

The cat rushed past while we were yet on the steps, 
glad enough to be at liberty ; and when we had time to 
look about us, we saw Dmah hfting some jars of preserves 
from a shelf. The open cellar in which we stood, was 
large and filled with barrels and rubbish, but at the left 
side was a small room, formed by a petition of long wooden 
bars, and once used as a wine room. 

" There is not a single bottle there now," said Dinah, as 
we approached it ; " the old lady sold all the wine long 
ago, excepting a few bottles which she buried — may-be half 
a dozen, or so — as a present for Miss JuHa on her mar- 
riage." 

" When did she bury them ?" asked the Doctor. 

" Why, about two years ago, sir. She bought the bot- 
tles of a man from beyond Hollybranch farm — Jacob Spil- 
ler — he made them himself, with wide mouths, on purpose 
for the old lady." 

The Doctor gave me a look. " Did she bury them 
within this wine closet ?" 

. " Yes. I took the bricks up for her, and dug the hole ; 
she said that wine improved by being buried. I did not 
fill the hole up again — that she did herself. But if you 
want to look into the closet, you -can easily do so, for 
all it is locked, as in my dear master's day, we had some- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 171 

times to manoeuvre to get at the wine, when he came here 
on a visit." 

On telling her that we had a particular reason for wish- 
ing to get the wine, she, with little effort, polled down three 
of the bars next to the wall — leaving a space wide enough 
for us to enter. She showed us the corner where the wine 
was buried, and the Doctor, sending her up stairs under 
pretence of getting glasses ready for us, proceeded to open 
the hole, which was tolerably well covered with bricks. 

" Dinah had no scruples, you see," said the Doctor; "she 
took a pleasure in circumventing the old lady's plans. She 
"had a hard life while living with her, and Julia persuaded 
her to go away, as she felt less anxiety for a stranger — but 
poor Julia was the sufferer, as she was often obliged to as- 
sist in the domestic affairs more than her delicate constitu- 
tion could bear." 

" She shall no longer have any power over her," said I, 
and I began to assist the Doctor, by kicking away the dir t 
with my feet, at a great rate. 

" Stop master, if you please," said the Doctor, who w^as 
carefully scraping away the sand with an oyster shell that 
he picked up — " stop this kicking, or you will break the 
bottles and spill the wine." 

" Why, you do not expect to find wine in the bottles, do 
you r 

" Do I ? — no certainly not — but I hope to find something 
better than wine — and here is one of the bottles — wide 
mouthed, you see, and as heavy as lead. Wait ; let 



172 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

US see, here are one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
nine, ten — I believe these are all, quite as many as we can 
carry up stairs." 

On looking abound we sa\v' a box, in which we placed the 
bottles, and where they stood as snuglyasifit had been made 
for them. In fact, when it was up stairs, we found that the 
box came from Jacob Spiller's glass manufactory, as his name 
was on it. What a shallow contrivance to conceal money I 
— for money we conjectured it was, by the weight. Each 
bottle was sealed and stamped with the letters J. B. As 
Robin had returned, we said nothing of our conjectures^ 
but after locking the cellar and ordeiing the man to get 
the board in the floor mended, we all departed, Dr. Bentley 
taking charge of the box, which a neighbour in passing 
with a hght wagon agreed to convey to West Hill. 

W^e left Dinah better reconciled to her lonely situation, 
by a promise from Miss Beverly to ride over to^see her every 
day or two, and we exacted secrecy of her respecting the 
ivine. Even Juha, much as she knew^ of her grandmother'* 
eccentricity, was surprised at the want of sagacity which 
this burjdng of so much money betrayed. Dr. Bentley^ 
sent a man over to Mr. Parr and to Mr. North, who by this 
time had returned, requesting to see them, and when they 
arrived we made them acquainted vnth the curious fact 
above mentioned. Not wishing to raise any question about 
the sanity of the old lady, w^e opened the bottles, and 
counted the money, which was all in guineas. Each bottle 
was full, and the plan we proposed was to place them in 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. i 173 

the bank to the credit of Miss Beverly, and Di". Bentley 
taking upon himself the risk of anger from the old lady. 

I persuaded the ladies to stop at my farm, as it lies on 
the road to West Hill, and you cannot think how proud and 
happy I felt when I saw Julia for the first time in the house 
that I hoped would soon be her home. I went into 
the kitchen to consult with my new cook — Penelope, 
(what names these Americans give their negroes !) as to 
the dinner she had prepared. I found a fine turkey roast- 
ing, and calling in Peter and Sam, I made them ac- 
quainted with my intention to detain the ladies, and asked 
them if they could manage to prepare a tolerable dinner. 
They all agreed that they could, for that there was plenty 
of game in the house, and Penelope observed that sweet- 
meats and cream were a dessert good enough for a prince. 

Mrs. Bentley never makes an objection when none ex- 
ists ; so Dennis, my Irishman, was despatched to desire the 
two gentlemen. Dr. Bentley and Mr. North, who is my 
guest at present, (Mr. Parr having returned home, 
after giving advice about the disposal of the money) — to 
dine with us, and I was left to do the honours of the house. 
How I did wish for a violent stwrm — one heavy enough to 
prevent the party from leaving the house — I was gratified 
— I think I have been very fortunate of late — for a snow 
storm set in, and before dinner was over I gave orders tohave 
fires made in all the bed-rooms, determined to detain my 
guests for the night, at least, under my roof. Dr. Bentley, 

on looking at the weather, said it was unfit for the ladies to* 

15* 



174 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD- 

venture in, even in a close carriage, and as it would be a 
comfortless thing for him to return alone, why, he would 
vote for their all staying, particularly as he knew I had 
room enough. Miss Sidney was delighted — any thing 
for novelty she said, and besides she professed a desire to 
" rummage about," never having been in an old bachelor's 
house before. Julia was very silent ; not all the liveliness of 
her young fiiend, nor the cheerfulness of Mrs. Bentley 
could engage her attention ; I could perceive that her 
thoughts were on her poor grandmother — and when I 
hinted this to the Doctor, he observed aloud, " that violent 
as the storm was here, yet it was not felt at sea. — The 
Belleflower," said he, " is entirely out of its reach." 

" Do you think then that my poor grandmother is not 
exposed to this weather ?" said Julia. The Doctor assured 
her that they were safe from it, being now at too great a 
distance. This brought great comfort to her, and we began 
to discuss a sleigh-ride, as the ground was frozen suffi- 
ciently hard to receive the snow; and the Doctor proposed, 
as the moon now gave light enough, that we should ride 
to Oak Valley, and spend the next evening at Mr. Webb's, 
and so pay our long neglected visits to other friends, if the 
snow continued. 

Julia by degrees became more cheerful, she exa- 
mined my little library with great interest, admiring 
the splendid books of flowers that you gave me, and 
expressing a wish to copy some of them — of course I 
was only too happy to offer them to her. " Do you ever 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 175 

mean to claim them again ?" said the Doctor in a whisper. 
" I think the best thing that can be done now, as we are all 
here and the Parson ready, is to marry at once — I can give 
her away, you know, and Charlotte can be bride's maid; all 
we want is a bride's man for you." I looked so foolish 
that Mrs. Beijtley insisted on knowing what it jwas that 
the Doctor had said, which of course he declined. All this 
must appear very silly to youj and yet of what magnitude 
it is to me ! Every thought, word, look, or deed, that re- 
lates to Julia, seems to have acquired additional importance 
since I have felt an interest in her. There is an impor- 
tance attached to the most trivial thing relating to her, and 
my mind is in a perpetual tumult. This state of things is 
not to last long, I trow — I might as well give up business 
at once, as to do it in the imperfect way that I now do — 
I ought to refrain from mentioning Julia to you after 
this, for when I get on the subject I can think of nothing 
else. 



176 OUH NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER JCXVII 



n^ - - ^ 



We were all delighted this morning to see the ground 
covered mth snow, at least six inches thick, and the 
morning cold and bright. Penelope had every thing 
in very good order, and an excellent American break- 
fast on the table. Do you know what a regular breakfast 
is here in winter ? Coffee, of course — buttered toast — muf- 
fins — ^buckwheat cakes — sausages — eggs and honej^ — and 
very often broiled quails. This was om- breakfast this 
morning. When I first came to America, I looked \\ith 
contempt on the eaters of these sumptuous breakfasts, and 
I could not be prevailed upon to touch any thing different 
firom the plain bread and butter and coffee to which I had 
been accustomed. Before the year was out, I foimd them 
agreeing with me very well \ and I now feel a little disap- 
pointed if I do not see two or three dfferent kinds of " relish- 
es," as they are called here, on the breakfast and tea table. 
I find this the case with Englishmen generally. Miss 
Sidney made the same remark to me, when I was helping 
her to some of the variety on the table. Basil Hall him- 
self, indifferent as he wished to appear to the abundance 
and variety of the breakfasts and suppers of which he 
partook when he first came, soon learned to xoant them, 
and to feel himself a very injured man when there was any- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 177 

deficiency. As far as eating and drinking go, the Ameri- 
cans are certainly better off than the people of Europe. Go 
where I will, either in the houses of the rich, or of plain, 
hard-working mechanics, I see the best kind of food, and a 
variety of it. 

Dennis, who, as he is not yet expert at American work 
and ways, is generally sent on plain errands, was despatched 
to tell Brom, Dr. Bentley's man, to bring the sleigh, as I 
have not yet purchased any. He had scarcely set out be- 
fore we heard the merry sound of the sleigh-bells, and first 
came Brom — with fur cap and mockasins, well put on, 
and cloaks, tippets, and foot-stoves for the ladies, not for- 
getting his master's cloak, and a huge bear skin, tipped, 
with scarlet cloth, for the back of the sleigh. He had 
but just shown himself when Andrew Haywood appeared, 
in a neat sleigh, with a fine pair of bright bays ; his sister, 
Susan, was with him. After him came Mr. Grant, with a 
sleigh, and alone. He was just on the point of crossing 
the bridge to go for Susan, I presume, when he met 
the whole Haywood establishment coming to my house. 
Then came Stephen, with a gay equipage, and a triple 
row of bells, having with him his sister, Fanny, and one of 
his brothers, — James, [ think it was. My little Sam was 
half beside himself with joy, so that it seemed a thing set- 
tled that he should crowd in somewhere, and get a ride. 
As to me, I had no enjoyment whatever, until I had ascer- 
tained whether I were to be allowed a seat in the same 
sleigh with Miss Beverly. It was soon settled that Ste- 
phen should turn about and go to Oak Valley, for as many 



178 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

ladies as his sleigh could hold, and meet us at Mr. Thorn'^y 
where we were to take up Miss Forbes. Andrew was 
to proceed to Mrs. Wells's, for the ladies there; and 
Mrs. Bentley, Miss Sidney, Miss Beverly, and I, were to 
take Mr. and Mrs. Parr — Dr. Bentley declining to be of 
our party, as he was obliged to go to Moreland on busi- 
ness. Mr. North likwise declined, and I could see that 
Charlotte Sidney was disconcerted by it. Our sleigh was 
the last to move off, but we had not proceeded many yards, 
before a loud halloo induced us to stop, and we saw Mr. 
North wading through the snow with Miss Sidney's mock- 
asins, wliich she had forgotten to put on. He very gallantly, 
and I presume cleverly, tied them on, and this httle incident 
had the effect of reviving the young lady's spirits again. As 
to me, I was seated by Julia ; and this circmnstance, with 
the bright, cloudless sky, the novelty of the scenery, which, 
for the first time this winter, had been completely covered 
with snow, the everlasting sound of the sleigh bells, and 
the even and rapid motion of the carriage, produced a com- 
bmation of agreeable feelings, which I never before expe- 
rienced. Did I not once before express a contemptuous 
opimon of these sleighing excursions'? Even Julia was 
excited. I heard her laugh for the first time — a delightful 
thing it was to me, and gladdened my very heart. 

As Stephen had stopped at Mr. Parr's to say that we 
were to call for them, we found them ready — but ready in 
their own sleigh, with aunt Martha and the little boy too, 
so there was no need of change. In this way we proceed- 



i 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 179 

ed to the Thorns'. We found the whole party there before 
us, as the young ladies at Oak Valley, having a presenti- 
mejit that sleighs would be out this rare morning, were 
quite ready to jump into the first one that came. Stephen, 
had four to his share. The most amusing thing was to see 
old Mr. Root out. He was at the door in a one-horse sleigh, 
or cariole, as they call it, (I suppose they mean cabriole,) 
expecting to take some one with him. I find that he is a 
frequent visiter at Oak Valley, and at Hollybranch farm, 
and that he goes regularly every day to Mr. Thorn's to see 
his ward, Emily Forbes. He is a sort of grumbler, or uni- 
versal fault-finder ; and above all things he hates pairs of 
any kind ; he dislikes as much to see a pair of horses in a 
sleigh, as he does to see a wedded pair of human beings. 
Every one declined the offer he made of a seat in his cariole ; 
at last, just as we were all setting off. Miss Sidney exclaim- 
ed, " Well, this is too bad ; I cannot bear to see the poor old 
gentleman so crest fallen — I have a great mind to take the 
offered seat — I certainly would if Sam drove, for Mr. Root 
is a poor driver, I am told." Sam was quite dismayed at 
this hint, complimentary as it was to his horsemanship. He 
thought it but a shabby mode of getting along over the 
snow, and looked resolutely forward, hoping, that if no fur- 
ther notice were taken of the suggestion, it would pass 
by. Bat when he saw Miss Sidney get out, and say, "Come, 
Sam," he set about bribing Brom to exchange situations 
with him. " I'll give you my shot bag, Brom, if you'll 
drive the cariole," said Sam. " Madam won't trust you to 



180 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

drive the horses," answered Brom, " I'll give you my 
skates," added Sam. " They wont fit me," replied Brom. 
" I'll lend you my fiddle for a month," pursued Sam. Out 
jumped Brom, and as I had just seated myself after hand- 
ing Miss Sidney to a seat with Mr. Root, Sam gave the 
horses a crack and away we went. I had no idea of the 
pleasure of a sleigh-ride before, but then I never was so 
agreeably situated before. The sun was glittering and 
glancing on the roofs of the houses and barns, and on the 
trees which were covered with flakes of snow — no wind 
having yet blown them off. Young and old flocked to the 
door as we flew past, to see the gay cavalcade, while the 
laugh and merriment of the party were heard above the 
sound of the beUs — here and there we saw a column of 
fire bursting fi'om the chimneys, contrasting singularly with 
the snow white roof, and a little troop of children rushing 
out at the time to see the '^burning," scarcely knowing 
which to admire most, our company, which passed them 
with a speed that confused the sight, or the flames which 
issued up as if firom a volcano. This burning of the chim- 
neys takes place whenever the roof is covered with snow, 
or when the roof is wet firom a long rain. 

When we stopped to rest the horses at a little village 
called Preston, first Stephen and then Andrew Haywood 
came up to our sleigh, to apologize for a very great omis- 
sion. " Their father and mother expected the whole party 
to dine there, but Andrew thought that Stephen had deli- 
vered the message, and Fanny thought that she heard Su- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 181 

san ask us." After a consultation — as I expected — they 
were all ready, and delighted to go ; we, therefore, set out 
with renewed spirits ; and at half after three we arrived 
safely at Mr. Haywood's without having met with a single 
accident or overturn. 

Blazing fires, a well spread table, and a kind welcome, 
met us ; but I could observe that Julia was the most fa- 
voured guest, even above the two ladies who seemed likely 
to become part of the family. Mr. Haywood congratulated 
us over and over again, on having Miss Beverly still 
amongst us ; for which, he said, they were indebted to me. 
More he would have said, had not Andrew, who has a 
great deal of sensibility and delicacy, whispered something 
to him. 

All this time we could not tell what had become of Miss 
Sidney and Mr. Root. They left us to get to Preston by a 
nearer route, but I could not help imagining that they had 
turned back, and had proceeded to West Hill. Mrs. Bent- 
ley felt very anxious, and good natured Stephen offered 
to ride over to West Hill, to see whether they were there. 
No sooner had he made the offer, than the colour flew to 
his face. He recollected that he was depriving himself of 
the pleasure of being near Miss Webb ; and that she, too, 
might not take it as a compliment, to find him so ready to 
go off in search of another lady ; particularly, as no one 
could for a moment fancy that any accident had happened 
to her. 

Just as we were seating ourselves around the ample 
table, in came Dr. Bentley, Miss Sidney, and Mr. North. 

16 

I 



182 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

We had a good laugh, and were not for admitting them to the 
feast : but Miss Sidney said that she had a right to come, as 
It was not her fault that she did not keep in company %vith 
us ; that Mr. Root, after telling Brom to take a nearer road, 
made him turn completely round, and before she was aware 
of it, she found herself near my farm. She remonstrated 
so strongly that the old gentleman kept on to West Hill, 
where they found Dr. Bentley just setting out to pay a visit 
to Hollybranch farm, but without the slightest suspicion 
of finding us there. The Doctor persuaded her to go with f 
him, and then stopped at my house to inquire whether 
we had returned, when Mr. North came out, and gave them 
the news of our having been invited to dine at Mr. Hay- 
wood's. He was persuaded to join them, but Mr. Root 
refused, sa3dng that he had been in ladies' company long 
enough for one da}'', and that he would just step into my 
parlour, and get a slice of cold ham, and go home. 

Dr. Bentley and Mr. North had dined, and so likewise 
had our good host and his wife, that they might not only 
leave more room for their guests, but that they might 
attend . to their wants. Another sleighing party was oro- 
jected, but Mr. Haywood shook his head ; Stephen remon- 
strated, but the better disciplined mind of Andrew acqui- 
esced. '' I know why father shakes his head," said the 
young man: " he is thinking that we had better be filling the 
ice- house ; and in truth, unless we set to work immediately, 
we shall have no ice." 

It was a thing not to be questioned ; and it was likewise 
prudent to get home as soon as possible, as the horses 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. • 183 

wanted all the rest that they could get. Mr. Parr said his 
ice-house was nearly filled, and made an offer of a pair of 
horses and two men, to assist the Hay woods. I promised 
to send a man and boy, and a pair of horses. Dr. Be'ntley 
had two men to offer, which, with the assistance of two of 
their neighbours, was deemed sufficient to fill the ice-house 
in one day ; especially as every thing was in readiness. 
Mr. Haywood's ice-house holds eighty wagon loads. We 
are all to assist Dr. Bentley on the day after, and then mine 
is to be filled. There is a fine fresh-water pond a very 
short distance from Hollybranch, which enables those 
living near it to fill their ice-houses with great despatch. 
Dr. Bentley has farther to go, almost half a mile ; and I 
have one of the most convenient jDlaces in the world from 
which to get ice — a small outlet from a brook, which lies 
in such a position, that it remains frozen for a long time. 

After we had dined — and a merry dinner it was — a 
dance was proposed.' The door of the other parlour was 
opened, and there was a fine fire, and the carpet up, with 
old Milo, an aged, white-headed negro, with his fiddle, 
waiting for us. There never was such music since the 
days of Nero ; but as the old musician kept time excellently 
well, and Mrs. Parr undertook to make him aware of the 
precise time when each cotillion ended, we did very well. 
Mr. Parr never dances ; but Mr. Thorn was as animated as 
any of us — only he did not understand the figure of the 
cotillions, having never danced any thing but country, or 
" contra," dances. I thought that Mr. North looked grave 
when Miss Sidney danced : she appeared conscious of it j 



184 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

for she observed that we had better leave off, as we should 
heat ourselves and take cold, since we had so far to ride. Ste- 
phen gave me a knowing look. 

We took leave of our kind fiiends, and rode home — Ste- 
phen with the bright, rosy girls of Oak Valley, and An- 
drew with the Misses Wells. Of course, I accompanied 
Dr. Bentley home, where I spent a deUghtful evening. 
JuHa is getting accustomed to me, and ventures every now 
and then to ask a question, and I have no ear for any other 
voice than hers. My own fehcity does not, however, ren- 
der me quite insensible to what is going on around me. I 
saw that Mr. North did not return with the Bentleys as 
was expected, and that Charlotte Sidney complained of 
being fatigued, wliich enabled her to retire early. The 
Doctor, Mrs. Bentley, Julia, and myself, talked over the 
events of the day, and we agreed in thinking that neither 
Andrew nor Stephen had any cause to fear a disappoint- 
ment. I, however, behaved very modestly on the occa- 
sion, and expressed my doubts as to the possibility of de- 
ciding whether a young lady allowed the addresses of a 
gentleman merely because she was gay and animated in 
his company. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 185 



. LETTER XXVIII. 

It was as bright 4nd as fair a morning as our Holly- 
branch friends could wish ; and Peter, with Sam and the 
horses, were there before seven o'clock — Dennis being 
left behind to take care of the cows and pigs. He is very 
inquisitive about the mode of filling an ice-house, having 
heard nothing else for a week past but speculations about 
the weather with reference to it. He is growing humble, 
which is a sign of improvement. He has been employed, 
all day in clearing away the snow, and in splitting wood, 
whilst I have done nothing but saunter about, reading the 
newspapers, of which a. huge pile lay on my desk unread, 
and in wondering why Dr. Bentley, who in general is so 
fiiendly, should have omitted to ask me to return home 
with him, when he called here this morniug. I went over 
to Hollybranch to see how they proceeded with the ice, 
and found every body too busy to do more than give me 
a friendly nod. Even Mrs. Haywood, who is usually so 
quiet and stationary, was moving about in her pantries, 
and Susan and Fanny were cutting up large loaves of 
bread, and preparing for the dinner. They had at least 
twelve men at work, including their own sons. The young, 
men have refused to let their father assist them, so he 

16* 



186 OUR NElGHBOURHOGir. 

walked about from the ice-house to the pond, and every 
now and then gave a word of advice. 

I rode as far as Mr. Parr's, and was just in time for din- 
ner. I was welcomed by them all — even Uttle Cyrus ran 
to me with his arms open. By degrees my restlessness 
wore off, and I found myself listening tja, .JVIr. Parr with 
great attention. After discussing the eternal theme of fill- 
ing ice-houses, we slid insensibly into the subject of natural 
science, and at length spoke of the green snow. Since my 
acquaintance with Miss Beverly commenced, I have not 
been able to suffer any other topic to interest me ; of 
course, this curious phenomenon of the green snow was 
utterly forgotten, Mr. Parr and I went out to look for it 
after dinner. He has a tan walk from the kitchen to his 
farmer's house; it was made since my discovery of the 
green colour, but, to my surprise, there was no appearance 
of it there. We could only infer, therefore, that this phe- 
nomenon does not exist where the tan is newly spread ; at 
any rate, this was the best explanation that we could give. 
We went through the range of out-houses, and I could not 
but admire the order and neatness that prevailed through- 
out. One man was holing posts, which he did very skil- 
fully with the post-axe. I find that the post-horse, or rack, 
and auger, are not generally used in this neighbourhood — 
the men not liking the trouble of Hfting the post up and 
down from the post-horse or frame. Another man was 
pointing rails, and a third, with the assistance of a boy; 
was making straw ropes. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOiy, 



18T 



Mr. Parr, I need not say, is a kind master ; but this does 
not prevent him from exacting obedience from his servants ; 
they, one and all, are devoted to his interests, and are con- 
stantly endeavouring to surprise him, either by an extra 
quantity of work, or by some ingenious de\ice to expedite 
labour. 

When we returned to the house, Mrs. Parr asked us 
whether we saw any of the green snow, and was as much 
surprised as we were at our not finding any. She did not 
think that the newness of the tan was the cause of its 
non-appearance, as she made me recollect that I saw it on 
newly made tan, in the out-house of the tan-yard. She 
went out with us to satisfy herself that one was to be 
seen ; and after asking a few pertinent questions, she said 
she was certain that she could give the true explanation of 
the cause of the absence of the green colouring matter. 
Mr. PaiT's eyes sparkled with pleasure, but he would not 
let her say a word out of doors, lest she might take cold ; 
and as she walked on before us, he could not deny himself 
the gratification of pouring out his heart in her praises. 
" I only wish, Mr. Allen," said he, " that you may find 
Miss Beverly just such an excellent creature as this is." I 
promise you^ my face was in a glow. "I have no doubt 
but that she is as amiable, but I am referring to her wis- 
dom. Mrs. Parr is one of the safest persons in the world 
to consult, and you can always rely on her judgment, even 
in matters wherein her sex are not expected to be conver- 
sant. I have not the least doubt," continued the proud 



188 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

and happy husband, " but that she \vnll put us both to the- 
blush in this matter of the green snow." 

" Well, my dear," said Mr. Parr, after first obliging his 
wife to put her feet on the fender, lest they might be wet ; 
" now let us hear your surmises, respecting this curious 
phenomenon." 

" Why, Mr. Parr," said she, " I did not make a promise 
of so deep an import as that ; I only said that I could ex- 
plain why the snow was not tinged with green now. I re- 
collect very well remarking w?ien the fact was first men- 
tioned to me, that the snow had fallen on unfrozen ground, 
and you may remember how muddy the snow became in 
places where the feet passed over it. Now it strikes me, 
as long as the ground remains in a state capable of allow- 
ing the easy transit of heat, which radiates from the sur- 
face, and of the gases which are extricated fi*om the decom- 
posed matter underneath, that all matter undergoing 
decomposition, whether at or under the surface, will, by 
these gases, be elevated and carried into space. It is well 
known that the interstices of snow are so arranged as to 
allow certain portions of foreign matter to pass through 
them. But although this be the case, still these foreign par- 
ticles, such as gases charged with colouring matter, do not 
pass through so freely as they would if no snow intervened. 
They are, in consequence, detained a little longer ; this 
causes an accumulation of such evanescent matter, and 
it is during the slow progress of their particles through the 
interstices of snow, that we are able to detect their presence. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 189 

Gases are continually escaping from the fermentation which 
is constantly going on beneath the surface ; they are charged 
with small particles of decomposed matter, which they 
elevate with themselves during the whole process of de- 
composition. When the fermentation is checked, as is the 
case when the ground is frozen, nothing escapes. All pe- 
rishable matter remains in a quiescent state until warm 
weather occurs again. The ground is frozen now, and. 
consequently, neither gases nor colouring matter are in mo- 
tion. Is this a satisfactory solution ?" 

We both thought it was ingenious and conclusive ; Mr, 
Parr w^as quite satisfied and delighted^ whilst gentle aunt 
Martha said she was sure that Mrs. Parr would soon findl 
out the secret, as she was the best guesser of riddles she 
ever saw. 

I have promised to pay a visit to Oak Valley. I am 
really ashamed that I have deferred it so long, but Mr. Parr 
says that the good little couple give every one their own 
time about affairs of ceremony, so I shall venture. 

Mr. and Mrs. Parr had the goodness to accompany me 
to Oak Valley ; we. were kindly welcomed by the whole 
family, who almost worship Mr. Parr. I made no apology 
for my remissness, for really none seemed necessary, and in 
half an hour the shyness of Mr. Webb wore off. He be- 
came animated, and I found him an agreeable and intelli- 
gent man. He is fOnd of horticulture, and has more science 
on this particular subject than any one I know. Mrs. Webb 
is a lively, kind hearted woman, without a particle of affec* 



190 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

tation. She laughs at literature in the gross, and at her 
husband's fondness for books in particular. She scarcely 
knows the meaning of the word science, and is as literal 
in her construction of other people's sentiments as if she 
were out of the pale of educated society. Yet she has a 
great deal of sensibility — of a certain sort. For instance, 
she was watchful and uTitable when I first entered the 
room, and seemed desirous of appropriating me to herself ; 
bat when she found how well her husband was getting on 
with me, she became easy and cheerful. Her great fear is, 
they say, that he will not exact that respect from others 
which he is entitled to, but really we forget his diminu- 
tive size when he enters into conversation or argument. 
His voice, too, is melodious, and his feelings and sentiments 
are of the purest and loftiest khid. 

They have six daughters, from the age of eighteen to 
that of eight, all healthy, well-informed gii'ls, partaking more 
of the vivacity and peculiarities of the mother than of the 
father, excepting a rosy little girl of fourteen, who hung 
around her father's chair, and seemed very much interested 
in what we were sajdng. We discussed the phenomenon 
of the green snow, and Mr. Webb comcided in the explana- 
tion given of it by Mrs. Parr. I was very much amused at 
the naivete of Mrs. Webb on the occasion. She generally 
dashes into the conversation, not caring — ^in fact not know- 
ing — that she is ignorant of the subject under discussion, but 
sometimes, her natural quickness and good sense enables 
her to set wiser people right. IMrs. Parr says she has fre- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 191 

quently known her to stumble on a very pertinent exposi- 
tion, and in the case of the green snow she acquitted her- 
self very w^ell. 

" What is that about green snow, Mr. Webb," said she, 
drawing her chair neacrer to her husband, who coloured up 
to the eyes. Good-natured Mrs. Parr, who sees and cares 
for everything and everybody, explained the circumstance, 
and of oar puzzles respecting it. " La," said she, laughing^ 
" how silly you scientific people are about such a trifle — ■ 
occupied you all with conversation for several days, has it 1 
v/hy, it is a very common thing. I have often seen it, and 
so has Betty. (Betty is a sort of runner, or waiter.) Why, 
we see it so often on our tan walk that I wonder you have 
not seen it, IVIr. Webb." Her husband vindicated himself, 
by saying that the tan walk was from the kitchen to the 
dairy, two places sacred to him, he not recollecting to have 
been in either since they were built. 

"Betty, come here," said Mrs. Webb, "have not you 
often seen green snow on the tan walk, leading from the 
kitchen to the dairy ?" 

" Yes," said Betty, " and I can show it to you now, if 
you would like to see it. I have often made green snow- 
balls for Miss Elizabeth." 

She disappeared, and left Mrs. Webb in high eulogium 
on Betty's shrewdness. " Ten to one," said her mistress, 
" but she tells us something that will put our learning to' 
the blush." 

In a few minutes the girl came in with a quantity of the 



192 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

green snow on a board. She had taken it from the south 
side of the walk, where the sun had shone all day, and she 
observed that it was always to be seen where there was a 
great deal of brownish yellow dust on the little pieces of 
bark which lay about the tan. 

" And, Betty," said Mrs. Webb, " tell this gentleman 
what you did once with a parcel of this tan. I recollect 
you were amusing Elizabeth with tan and snow one day, 
several winters ago." 

" Oh, ma'am," answered Betty, " I know what you 
mean, I was putting some newly fallen snow, which I took 
from the floor of the portico, on a parcel of tan which I 
brought from the walk. I called Miss Elizabeth to see how 
quickly the green colour from the tan ran up in the snow 
which I had laid on the top. I am sure that in less than 
three minutes the snow was quite green. I will go out for 
some of the brownish dust and you shall see it yourself 
sir." 

" There," said Mrs. Webb, as she left the room — " did I 
not tell you that Betty would put all our wit to the blush? 
I am sure I would never have seen a thing of this kind." 

'• But, my dear," said her husband, " although Betty has 
sho^vn that nothing escapes her, yet she does not pretend 
to account for the phenomenon." 

" Phenomenon !" exclaimed Mrs. Webb, in astonish- 
ment — " why, you do not call such a simple, every-day 
thing a phenomenon 7 I do not call any thing a phenome- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 193 

noil short of a stone from the moon, or a iish with a wo- 
man's head, like a merm.aid." 

Mr. Webb reddened, but he smiled and cast a glance at 
his guests, who were all too busy, apparently, in conversa- 
tion with the young ladies, to notice what had so discom- 
posed him. Betty came in with some broken bits of bark, 
covered with this dingy, yellow dust, and a slice of snow. 
We laid the snow on the tan, and in a few minutes, sure 
enough, the snow was tinged with a beautiful green 
colour. 

We thought it most prudent to drop the subject of phe- 
nomena, and make the conversation more general : but I do 
not think I ever suffered more uneasiness than I did during 
this visit. I was afraid to give all my attention to the young 
ladies, lest Mr. or Mrs. Webb should take it as disrespect 
to themselves ; and I did not dare to confine myself to Mr. 
Webb, as he showed so much sensitiveness ; so I was hear- 
tily glad when Mrs. Parr rose to go. They are certainly 
the smallest couple I ever saw, and yet they are well pro- 
portioned. Mr. Parr says there is no one whose conversa- 
tion suits him better than Mr. Webb's ; that he is a well 
informed, sensible man, with a great deal of taste, but ra- 
ther more sensibility than is comfortable to himself or his 
friends. 

It was nine o'clock before I reached my own house. On 
inquiry, I found that Mr. North had not been at home since 
morning ; but had left a note, saying, that if he were 
not in by nine o'clock, I must not expect him. There 
was neither message nor call from Dr. Bentley, all of 

17 



194 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

which struck me as very singular. Peter and Sam came 
home tired, about seven o'clock, and went to bed. I am 
now writing at ten, and as Mr. North has not rettirned, I 
shall go to bed. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



195 



/^ ^-^ ^ ^^;..ii./^(^^v*^ 






/ 



LETTER XXIX 








I SENT my man and boy, with a pair of horses, to Dr. 
Bentley this morning ; and after breakfast, I rode over to 
West Hill. The Doctor was superintending the affairs of 
the ice-house ; and I sat, awkwardly enough, for several 
minutes in the parlour, as Mrs. Bentley sent a message, 
requesting me to stay within until she saw me. The 
moment she came, I saw that somethuig had occurred. 
"We did not see you yesterday evening, Mr. Allen," said 
she, " nor in fact during the day. We were a Httle out of 
humour with one another, and it was better that you should 
not witness it. We have had a little scene. I hope it will 
all be set to rights ; but the Doctor has been very much 
discomposed. 

" What can have occurred," said I ; " does it relate to 
me? or " 

" No, not in the least to you. I may as well tell you, 
lest you should imagine it worse than it really is. Miss Sid- 
ney felt a little provoked at Mr. North, because he took 
offence — no, not offence, but because he looked grave at 
her dancing with the Hollybranch sleighing party. She 
told him that she had observed his cold looks; and although 
it did not signify much, yet it had the effect of preventing 
her from enjoying herself ; that he had no right to do this, 



19G OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

» and that his notions were too rigid by half. He begged 
her pardon for having unwilliiT^y offended her, and ac- 



knowledged he haAMo^d^hi^y word or look^ to interfere 
in any of her amusements. He recollected that he had 
looked grave, but that his gravity had a deeper source than 
"what arose from the mere dancing, althoiigh, as he felt 
himself situated, even that gave him pain. 

He then, in a manly and delicate manner, told her that 
he found his interest in her welfare was growing too strong 
for his peace of mind ; that prudence suggested the only 
course proper for him to pursue — which was, to deny him- 
self the pleasure of her society. He then rose to take leave, 
very much agitated, turning to me, but unable to speak. 
Miss Sidney rose also. 

" Mr. North," said she, " there will be no necessity for 
you to absent yourself from my uncle's house, as I shall 
leave this country in a very short time. Your society is 
agreeable to your friends here, and I must not be the cause 
of your estrangement. Let us part friends, however" — and 
she gave him her hand, which he took, and, without 
being able to speak, he bowed and left us. Miss Sidney 
went immediately to her room, and I — but I need not re- 
peat how much I felt for them both, and for the Doctor, 
too, who values Mr. North very highly. 

I told Mr. Bentley that all this could be arranged in a 
very little time, if we could be sure that Miss Sidney's 
affections were not placed elsewhere. 

" That I am sure they are not," said Mrs. Bentle}' : " on 
the contrary, I think she is very much pleased with Mr. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 197 

North ; more so, indeed, than she apprehends — but I have 
no business to betray her sentiments. I say this to you, 
Mr. Allen, because Mr. North is your friend." 

I told her that I would exert my influence to bring mat- 
ters to a right understanding ; that is, continued I, provided 
Miss Sidney does not put her threat, of returning to Eng- 
land, in execution. 

" We will keep her here," said Mrs. Bentley. " If we 
can once get her to acknowledge a preference for Mr. 
North, she will give up all thoughts of England. A woman 
forsakes every thing for her husband if she have the right 
sort of affection for him." 

Mrs. Bentley left me to apprize the ladies of my being 
there, and I had soon the satisfaction of seeing them. Miss 
Beverly looked cheerful, and T thought pleased to see me ; 
but Miss Sidney bore evident marks of disquietude. 

" So," said she, " I hear that Mr. North staid at More- 
land last night. He has made his election, I suppose. He 
has survived the horror of living under the roof of a Miss 
Streamer." 

" Wherever he is," said I, "he must feel very forlorn and 
uncomfortable, and I pity him from the bottom of my 
heart. I have not heard from him since he left West 
Hill." 

Miss Sidney blushed, and Julia looked sad ; just then 
Dr. Bentle}; came in, and, after shaking hands, proposed 
that I should accompany him to Moreland. He said that 
he must see what had become of Mr. North, and, at all 
events, endeavour to decoy him back. 

17* 



198 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" Come, Charlotte," said he, taking his niece's hand, af- 
fectionately, "just let me bring the young man back again. 
He has scarcely a friend in the world out of this house, and 
you cannot wish him so ill as to throw him entirely among 
strangers. Mr. Allen, and you Miss Beverly, use your in- 
fluence with this hard-hearted young lady ; she has but to 
say one word, and all will be well again. Wliat, in tears, 
Charlotte ! — well, that is a good sign ; and Julia is whis- 
pering a kind word. I see it all now. I may biing back 
Mr. North, may I not, Charlotte ? — and you will give over 
your taunts, and your threats, and" — 

Miss Sidney looked up, laughing, through her tears. 
" And my dancing, too, I suppose. Indeed, uncle, Mr. 
North is too rigid in his notions for me ; but we have dis- 
cussed all this over and over again, and I am still of the opi- 
nion that I shall not make him a suitable wife — for that is 
what you are all projecting, I know." 

So the lady sat pouting, while Julia, with her arm around 
her, said a number of playful things ; and at length Mrs. 
Bentley, who just re-entered the room, proposed a ride in 
the sleigh as far as Moreland. I was ready in a moment to 
take Mrs. Bentley and Julia, while the Doctor insisted on 
having Charlotte to himself— "My ice-house," said he, 
" must do without my direction to-day ; if it be not well 
filled, Charlotte must take the blame to herself, for she has 
entirely unfitted me for business." 

Poor Miss Sidney fell to her tears again, and I thought 
she would resolve not to accompany us, but her uncle did 
not notice this ; he ordered her cloak and mockasins, and, 
to my utter astonishment, she suffered him to wrap her up 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. * 199 

well, and place her by his side in the sleigh, without the 
least opposition. Just as we were about to move off. she 
leaned over to us, and said — " Julia, remember my words. 
I'll be revenged on you for this, my young lady — so, pre- 
pare for it." 

" I defy you to hurt her," said Mrs. Bentley, laughing ; 
" she has too many on her side to fear any thing." 

The first thin": that we heard on reacliing- Moreland, 
was, that Mr. North had just gone towards Oak Valley 
with Mr. Root, and that he had left word that he should 
not return that night, as he was either to stay at Mr. 
Thorn's, or at Hollybranch farm. I found that a note had 
been despatched to me, and no less a person had taken it 
than cross Hetty Weed, herself. We soon turned our 
horses' heads homewards, determined to stop at my house 
first, to learn the contents of Mr. North's note. Miss Sid- 
ney, however, declared that she would return home, as it 
was not a very pleasant thing to be following up a gentle- 
man in this style. 

" While we are out," said the Doctor, " e'en let us make 
the most of it. It will be a broken day, and we a.re all 
pretty well unhinged — (I am sure I could not say this of 
myself) — let us make a visit to Glensbury ; we owe our 
Triend, Murray, a visit. I have never yet, Mr. Allen, intro- 
duced you to an old friend of mine, a quaker, one of the 
most spirited and really useful men we have. I only wish 
we lived nearer each other." We were all willing to go, for 
this gentleman seemed a favourite with all the ladies, and 
Miss Beverly grew quite eloquent in his praises. 



200 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

Glensbury is seven miles from West Hill, and we did not 
arrive there until twelve o'clock. Mr. Murray met us at 
the door with a benevolent welcome, telling us that he 
had been expecting us ever since the snow fell, and that he 
w^ould have come to us, only that he was afraid of missing 
us on the road. It was soon settled that we were to dine 
there, and we were seated and quite at our ease in a few 
minutes. 

" I am truly glad, Julia," said Mr. Murray, " that thy 
grandmother left thee behind. Sarah and I were quite un- 
happy at the thoughts of losing thee, and we both felt that 
we had not done our duty in not making an effort to win 
thee from thy aged parent. When we did think the thing 
practicable, we found that our friends here h«.d been more 
alert, and that we had lost thee."' 

Mrs. Murray was very kind and attentive to us all, and 
I found the day, broken as Dr. Bentley said it was, a very 
agreeable one. 

Mr. Murray has an income of about three thousand dol- 
lars a year. With this he contrives to do a great deal of 
good in a quiet way. Then his time — our friends say that he 
has enough of it, and to spare. He is called upon by the 
public voice on every occasion — for a canal, a rail-road — 
even to assist in raising funds for public charities, in the 
management of which he does not interfere ; — in short, he is 
a man of excellent judgment, and entirely without ambi- 
tion or vanity. His time is so constantly taken up wiih 
the affairs of the community, that he has never cultivated 
a taste for horticulture ; all such things are left to Mrs. Mur- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 201 

ray, who has a real love for it. I have had quite an inter- 
esting conversation with her ; the more agreeable, as Julia 
was an attentive listener. We discussed some of the opi- 
nions brought forward in a little work on vegetable physi- 
olog}^, by Mrs. Marcet ; we both thought that this branch 
of science was still very imperfectly understood, and that 
Dutrochet had thrown more light on certain portions of it, 
than any other modern philosopher. 

Mrs. Murray lamented that there was no good work on 
this very important subject, that unlike animal physiology, 
it required to be treated by a person whose opinions were 
the result of out door observation and extensive experiment. 
That Dutrochet, whose analytical research had done so 
much, was still deficient in those points which strictly 
comprehended the pathology of plants, aiKi in those obser- 
vations which were the result of an intimate knowledge of 
their habits, neither of which could be leariied but by living 
among plants in the open air. 

She showed how liable we are to be deceived in takingour 
notions from the writers of other countries, where the climate 
was so different from our own, and she mentioned particularly 
some of the remarks made by Mrs. Marcet, (who received 
her knowledge from Professor De Candolle.) That lady — 
in page 79 of the American edition of her work, says, that 
" every species of restraint, and especially such as tends to 
render plants motionless^ impedes their growth ;" that 
" they should never be fastened so tightly as to prevent all 
motion, /or the exercise which the wind gives to young tree^ 



202 ' OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

is no less salutary than that which a mother gives to her 
infant," although she observes, " that the wind is a rough 
nurse, over whom it is prudent to keep a watchful eye ;" 
and " that nailing fruit trees against walls is prejudicial to 
their growth," but the advantages resulting from the shel- 
ter afforded by walls, and the heat reflected by them more 
than compensate for the bad effects of confinement — for 
such fruits at least as requii^e a higher temperature to ripen 
them than is to be met with in our climate ; but when the 
temperature is genial to the plant, standard trees, growing 
freely in their natural state, produce the finest fi:uits." 

Mrs. Murray observed that " the foregoing remarks 
however useful they might be to those for whom the work 
was intended, were not applicable to the American climate^ 
or rather to that portion of it which affected the middle and 
a part of the southern and eastern states." I went out 
with her to see some standard and trained trees, the result 
of which proved that trees trained against the side of a 
house — in every case that came within my notice there — 
were both in the trunk and branches of twice the size of the 
standard trees of the same age. 

A very fine apricot covered one side of their carriage- 
house ; its branches extended each way to the extremity of 
the building which was thirty-five feet in width, and sloping, 
up to the height of at least twenty feet. It was closely nailed 
to the boards, without any fi:ame work behind it, the dis. 
tances between each fastening (which was a strip of cloth 
of the width of half an inch, and only so much longer than 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 203 

the circumference of the branch which it confined, as to en- 
able any one to nedl it to the wall) were not more than a 
foot, and in many cases not more than six inches, for every 
little twig was carefully nailed to the boards. Several 
standards of the same kind of fruit, which, when set out, 
were of equal size, had now no growth to be compared to 
the trained one. I was assured likewise, that the yearly 
pruning of the latter would more than fill six wheelbarrows, 
whereas those from a standard were not a tenth part as 
much. 

" It is therefore clear to me," said Mrs. Murray, " that 
winds are not necessary to the health or growth of a tree, 
neither does the rule laid down by De Candolle, ' that a 
standard tree bears finer fruit than a trained one,' hold good 
with us. The action of the wind, or rather of light breezes, 
on the leaves is certainly beneficial, and nature has elon- 
gated the petioles or footstalks that the motion may be 
easy, which were it otherwise, would rupture the tender 
vessels. 

I asked her how it happened that the growth of the tree 
was not retarded when the hgature embraced every part of 
it, and confined it closely to the wall. 

" The growth of the tree," said she, " would most un- 
doubtedly be retarded, if the same ligatures were to re- 
main on for a length of time ; but the shoots which are 
trained to the wall one year, are cut away to give place to 
the new ones of another, which, in their turn, are trained in 
the place of the old ones : meantime, as the branches and 



204 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

iruiiks of the tree generally elongate, for the ligatures only 
press in one direction — the whole tree enlarges yearly, 
growing much faster than a standard. And further, my 
whole experience leads me to the conclusion that the fruits 
of every kind of tree grow larger, and are finer flavoured, 
when the tree is trained, than when it is a standard." 

In fact, my own observations, limited as they are, tend 
to the same point, that the whole secret Hes in the training 
and pruning. A trained tree will be an unsightly object, if 
not watched and tiimmed with great care and skill. There 
are very few gardeners who have judgment enough to 
manage a tree according to the strict rules of art ; and one 
clumsy blunderer will give a skilful orchardist more trouble 
by mismanagement, in trimming an espaher, than two suc- 
cessive years can rectify. 

I shall endeavour to cultivate Mrs. Murray's acquaint- 
ance, for her mind is stored with valuable information, 
which she is not unwilling to communicate. A good-na- 
tured person delights in instructing others ; in fact, 1 have 
ever thought that a good-natured man, with fair opportu- 
nities, becomes better acquainted with the pursuit in which 
he is engaged, than one who is selfish and reserved. The 
very act of instructing others, brings with it additional re- 
compense ; for in making our thoughts clear to those with 
whom ^ve are conversing, we place the subject in number- 
less new points of view to ourselves. 

Mr. Murray, Doctor and Mrs. Bentley, and a Mr. Deve- 
reux, who, with his daughter, came in after dinner, formed 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 205 

^i little party by themselves ; Miss Sidney and Miss Deve 
reux talking, in an under voice, of novels and new dresses. 
The elder party were inquiring into the progress of a new 
scheme, set on foot by Mr. Murray, for the employment of 
paupers. This has been undertaken for the benefit of other 
sects, as not one of his own is ever expected to receive any 
advantage from the establishment. 

Mr. Devereux was formerly a lawyer ; but coming into 
the possession of an estate near Glensbury, he gave up his 
practice. There is a college of rising reputation within 
half a mile of the town ; and he has been prevailed upon 
to give lectures on Belles Lettres and the natural sciences. 
He and Mr. Mun'ay are very intimate ; and Mrs. Murray 
says it was a bright day for them when Mr. Devereux 
came into their neighbourhood. He gives lectures once a 
month, and we are to hear the next one, which will be on 
Wednesday fortnight. He said he had none yet prepared,- 
and Miss Sidney observed that she should like to give him 
a subject to discuss. He promised that he would lecture 
on any thing she proposed. " Well, then," said she, " let 
it be on women — on poor, abused, insulted women. Begin 
at the time that they were burnt by the score for witch- 
craft, and continue the theme until the present moment, 
when her wages, with equal labour, is to that of a man's 
as one to eight." 

We were all very much amused with this sudden burst of 

indignation ; but it fell in with Mr. Murray's humour, and 

he encouraged Mr. Devereux to undertake it. We threw 

18 



206 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

out a number of hints, of which the gentleman took notes : 
but he professed himself uneasy as to the success of his 
attempts. 

" Well, make it a general thing, then," said Mr. Murray: 
" Charlotte wishes to raise her sex to an equality with 
ours ; let us see how it can be managed." 

Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Murray observed that womeii 
had as many privileges as they wanted ; and whenever a 
bold and extravagant theorist sprung up to advocate what 
was called the " rights of women," the doctrine was con- 
demned by the very sex whom it was intended to benefit. 
" I should like to see their moral nature improved," said 
Mrs. Murray ; " for on that the happiness and prosperity 
of mankind depends. Women are pious and religious 
enough ; but that does not, strange as it may appear, ad- 
vance their moral feelings. I mean they are pious and 
religious, in the worldly acceptation of the terms. Perhaps 
I refine too much, and I may be thought rigid in my notions ; 
but I have so great a desire to keep the barrier between the 
sexes visible and distmct, that I would use all my influence 
to prevent any encroachment by our sex. One of thy 
poets speaks of " o'erstepping the modesty of nature." Wo- 
men certainly overstep it, when they cross the line which is 
so plainly marked. Women should foster and encourage 
refinement in themselves, and never, even under the spe- 
cious guise of religious motives, approach this boundary. 
They should be cautious, although under the sanction of 
clerical indulgence, and more particularly resist religious 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 207 

literference, lest unwarily they are led by short cuts to the 
forbidden line." 

" YoLi are speaking in metaphor, my dear Mrs. MmTay," 
,:raid Miss Sidney, '' and you are looking at me. I do not 
miderstand you." 

" No, Charlotte, thou dost not — perhaps thou wilt not — 
for thou art a little, a very little, implicated in these remarks. 
Thou art, at this very moment, at work to obtain a pass- 
port to approach the barrier of which I speak." 

" What ! does this little cap which T am working for the 
fair at Wicklowe, come within your rebuke ?" 

" Yes ; it has a twofold tendency to deteriorate the fine 
and sensitive mind of woman. That cap, which thou art 
working for the fair, is for the purpose of raising funds to 
enable a parish to pay for missionary services. As thy 
society is constituted, this is all well enough. The poor 
ought to be on an equality with the rich, as it respects reli- 
gious instruction ; and if the truths of the gospel can only 
be heard in that way, then an appropriation should be made 
by which the poor could receive this spiritual comfort. But 
what I object to is the interference of women in these mat- 
ters : why should they toil for this purpose, when all their 
energies are required to assist their own sex? 

" Working, therefore, for these missionaries makes us 
mijust to the claims of our own sex, and blunts our own 
feminine sensibilities. It has likewise an immoral tendenc}' 
in another way. It renders men indifferent towards the 
spiritual necessities of those of their brethren who are poor : 



20S OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

and — if I must say it — a woman lessens herself, even li^ 
the eyes of the very men who are so ready to accept of her 
services. Dost thou not see, Charlotte, that much as men 
approve of our remaining on the right side of the barrier, 
they — or rather a small portion of them — coimive at, in 
fact lead us by insidious approach to the forbidden line, 
whenever their interests require it. And ought we to be- 
thus a tool in their hands ? We should not let them work 
upon our sympathies, and impose upon our understanding, 
as they frequently do, by giving our minds a \nong bias. 

" If men were incapacitated from supplying the poor with 
spiritual comfort, then woman might step forward and offer 
her assistance. This is not, however, the case ; men are 
able enough to do it, but there is not much eclat attend- 
ing it, and they, therefore, let it fall into the hands of those 
who think it a great matter to distinguish themselves in 
this way. This is the motive of the generality of our sex 
when they congregate for the purpose of assisting men. 
There are some few amongst us who have a tender con- 
science, and are fearful of neglecting what they are led to 
believe is a duty, when they refuse to do it, although the^^ 
feel the impropriety of it — but these are few in number. 

" When any showy, worldly project is set on foot, and 
money is to be raised for it, men fly to the subscription book 
in numbers. Only look at the sums raised for electioneer- 
ing purposes. If it were not for mere shame, they wouk^ 
ask women's aid for this, too — indeed it is of recent dati 
that they so far degraded women as to carry them to th- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 209 

polls to vote ! It is a blessing to us that they have become 
ashamed of this, and that the law permitting this insult to 
women's delicacy has been repealed. 

" And as to these fairs — these traps of modern invention 
— there is not a man of sense or delicacy who does not ridi- 
cule and detest them in his heart ; but as the custom chimes 
in with the religious fervour of the day, he is compelled to 
disguise his thoughts, or be considered as out of the pale. 
He will break out, though, one of these days, and write 
them down, and his remarks will be the more severe from 
the long restraint he has endm^ed. 

"In truth, what can be more unfeminine, than the 
situation of a well-educated female while mider this high 
state of excitement at one of these fairs. Just look at 
the bold look, and the coarse and decided tone and man- 
ner of the one who is thus engaged. She bargains and 
sells like a ' vendue master' in a country village, or like a 
market woman in the public market, and has to submit to 
the coarse jokes and the vulgar gaze of those persons who 
ought never to approach her but with respect and defe- 
rence. A woman, in one night at one of these fairs, loses 
more of the respect of her inferiors, than a whole life of dig- 
nified reserve can restore. A low, vulgar fellow, who stands 
before her and exchanges words — jokes in fact — for she 
must be pleasant and winning in her manners, or she will not 
sell her wares — will ever after consider himself on a par 
with her. He never can get it out of his head that he once 
bandied words with her, and bought a glass of lemonade o 
her, for which, under the cloak of religious motives, she 

IS* 



210 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

charged him twice as much as he could have purchased 
it for at a common — may I say it — tavern. 

" Charlotte laughs at what I say, but I see that her 
fingers move more slowly over her work, and that the cap. 
and all that quantity of fine needle work which has occupied 
her so long, are destined to be sold for the benefit of that 
best of charities, the ' Sunday School,' as thy people 
call it." 

" If my fingers move slowly over my work," Mrs. Mur- 
ray, said Miss Sidney, " it is because T am making the lasi 
stich — there — the cap is finished — take it, my dear aunt — 
let it go as Mrs. Murray fancies it would, and now adieu to 
fairs — I give them up for ever." 

I thought of Mr. North at ihe time, but I was too pru- 
dent to refer to him, although Adia whispered that he would 
have been pleased with her decision. Mrs. Bentley, how- 
ever, cast a sly look at her niece, and this encouraged the 
Doctor ; he observed that he had listened to Mrs. Murray 
with a great deal of pleasure, because her remarks agreed 
with those entertained by Mr. North. 

" Yes," said Mrs. Murray, " thy fiiend North has a great 
deal of dehcacy with regard to our sex. I do but echo his 
sentiments, for we have often conversed on this topic. He 
is decidedly of opinion that woman should never be flattered 
nor manoeuvered into any scheme to work for strong healthy 
men, when there are so many weak and feeble creatures 
of her own sex who are languishing for assistance. Bui 
here is our friend Devereux taking notes of all this — and 
here am I, a Gluaker too, speaking of things with which, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 211 

seeing that I am not one of thy society, it becomes me not 
to meddle." 

" If I do not avail myself of what you have said, in the 
lecture wliich I am to write on women," said Mr. Devereux, 
" I will make use of them some other time, as all persons of 
refinement must wish to cure the mania which disturbs 
your sex at present." 

We took om' leave of this amiable and intelligent family, 
determined to pay them more frequent visits ; in fact there 
was not one of us that had not received some new hint. 

"A well educated Gluaker," said Dr. Bentley, "is to 
me a very desirable acquaintance, I like their manners, and 
their benevolent dispositions, as well as their zeal for pub, 
lie good. I like their principles, too, as it respects war — 
which, as they do, I hold in utter abomination ; and I can- 
not but admire and respect their steady adherence to a faith 
which subjects them to so many mortifications, and for 
which they sufier so much injustice. I am amazed that in 
this country, where the rights of conscience are held so sa- 
cred, and to protect and secure which so much of blood and 
treasure was spent, the religious scruples of the Qua- 
kers should be so utterly disregarded. We have no more 
right to oblige the Quakers to kill a man in battle, than we 
have to make them give their preachers salaries. I think 
when it comes to actual fighting, that a Q-uaker is as much 
Jwrs du combat as if he were blind, and if his conscience 
will not suffer him to blow out the brains of a fellow-crea 
ture in battle, it is equally clear that he camiot pay another 
man to do it in his place. We have no more right to make 



212 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOU. 

ihem commit this outrage on their feelings, than we shouki 
have to drive them, as we do the Indians, beyond the Rock} 
Mountains. 

TVTien we entered into the Federal Union, we admitted 
the Quakers into the social compact, having a 'perfect 
knowledge of luhat their religious faith and scruples were. 
and we received their allegiance as far as they could give it. 
They did not come to us after the Union was formed, w<- 
found them here, and better citizens a coimtry never had : 
we should therefore not only uphold and support them in 
maintaining their rehgious faith, but cease to persecute 
them, for the sake, it would seem, of the paltry sums 
wliich can be extorted from them under the plea of mili- 
tary fines. 

The persecution of the Gluakers and of the Indians — the 
one class being amongst the most elevated of our popula- 
tion, and the other the most depressed of human beings — 
is a strange featm'e in American policy and history. It 
shows how long we cling to the bigoted prejudices of the 
days of fanaticism, and how slow we are to admit gene- 
rous and enlightened views towards those who are unable 
to assert their own rights. If the Indians were powerful 
enough to act on the defensive, we should never think of 
breaking om* treaties with them, and of driving them from 
their homes. 

Julia said she had some beautiful verses on the subject 
of the disappearance of the Indians. They were written 
by a lady of taste and talent, who she knew would pardon 
ner for thus showiins: them. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 213 



LINES WRITTEN ON SACHEm's HILL, NEAR BOSTON. 

« Here on this little hillock, in days long- since g-one by, 
Glanced over hill and valley, the sachem's eagle eye ; 
His were the pathless forest, and his the hills so blue. 
And on the restless ocean, danced only his canoe. 

Here stood the Indian chieftian, rejoicing in his glory, 
How deep the shade of sadness that rests upon his story ! 
For the white man eame with power, like brethren they met- 
But the Indian fires went out, and the Indian sun has set. 

And the sachem has departed, gone is his hunting ground, 
And the twanging of his bowstring is a forgotten sound. 
Where dwelleth yesterday 1 and where is echo's cell 7 
Where hath the rainbow vanished ?~ there doth the Indian dwell. 



^1-4 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 




LETTER XXX 



Br seven o'clock Andrew and Stephen Haywood, win, 
two line teams, and a stout labourer ; one team and two 
men from Dr. Bentley, one team and fom- men from Mr 
Parr, besides my o^vn team and men ; were all in readiness 
to attack the ice. And here I cannot help relating a clever 
thing done by Dennis ; he had heard us speak of cutting 
the ice in blocks, and of drawing these blocks to the margin 
of the pond ; so he determined he would try his hand at it. 
He had the day at his own disposal yesterday, as I scarcely 
was at home a minute, and he thought this would be a 
good opportimity to get accustomed to the novel labom* of 
working in the ice. Of all things, Irishmen dislike to be 
laughed at, and they are liable to have their feelings, on 
this point, kept in full play ; as the mode of working in this 
country is so different from their own, that they are con- 
stantly making blmiders. Demiis, absolutely, by liimself, 
cut and pulled up on the edge of the bank, as much as 
ten or twelve loads of ice ; poor fellow, he looked for ap- 
plause, and he got it — one and all were delighted. 

We attacked the ice with great spirit, and as you have 
never seen an ice-house filled, I may as well tell you what 
is thought the best mode of doing it in this country. I wil^- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 215 

lirst begin with the house itself. Formerly, it seemed to be 
a kind of chance work, if the ice were preserved until the 
middle of September, although great pains used to be taken 
in the construction of the ice-house ; at present nine houses 
out of ten keep the ice as long as it is wanted. Ice-houses 
were built with a view to tightness and durability, and 
great variety of opinion existed as to the material which 
should be used for the walls of the cellar. The roofs too 
of ice-houses were made as solid and tight as if for a dwell- 
ing-house. At present the plan pursued ia^to make a cel- 
lar sufficiently large to hold about sixty wagon loads of 
ice — if the earth is springy, then the cellar should not be 
sunk so deep, but the same number of square feet should 
be obtained by increasing the square of the cellar. But in 
rocky, shelly land, or in stit' clay, an ice-cellar may be 
dug to the depth of ten or twelve feet. I have examined 
ice-houses in sandy soils where it was not possible to go 
deeper than four feet, on account of water, and yet the ice 
kept sufficiently well. The greater the bulk of ice, the 
more certainty there is of saving it. My ice-house is dug 
out of a red shell rock; it is twenty feet square and ten 
deep. The roof, which is of shingles, springs from a stone 
wall, raised two feet above the surface; the roof is lathed and 
plastered on the inside, and has besides, a stout thatching 
between the shingles and ceiling. All this was unneces- 
sary, as any roof that will keep off the rain is quite suffi- 
cient. A bank of earth, sodded with grass, seems indis- 
pensible-in all cases, and this bank completes the angle of 



21G OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

the roof, commencing at the eaves and sloping regularly 
down to the ground. The door should face the north, and 
of course be at the gable end ; the bank of earth, therefore 
will have to be supported on each side of the door by cheeks, 
flaring off so as to make an opening, at least of five feet at 
the outside. The door itself need not be more than thirty 
inches. The cellar should, if possible, be lined with yel^ 
low pine logs, fi-om eight to ten inches diameter ; between 
which and the wall, there should be a filling-in of lime core 
and coal siftings, or cinders ; this is to prevent the rats 
from burrowing, which otherwise they would certainly do. 
And now I am to mention the most important point in the 
whole plan ; which is, to have a current of air through the 
upper part of the house. This will tend more to preserve 
the ice than any other thing ; and in consequence of this 
ciu"rent, butter and meat will be nearly free of that musty 
odour, which prevails in so great a degree in many ice- 
houses, that the butter and cream, as well as cheese and 
fish, which are kept in these unventilated places, are ren- 
dered almost unfit to eat. 

I do not think that the small opening in the shape of a 
chimney, which we generally see, is sufficient to carry off 
the damp, confined air, particularly as the door is kept shut, 
thereby preventing a circulation. The true plan is to 
have a wooden chimney, of at least a foot square, placed 
in the roof at the corner of the angle opposite to the dooi'? 
and to have a window at the lower part of the door, of a 
foot or fourteen inches square, without glass, of course, but 
having a strong wire interlacing it, to prevent cats, dogs, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 217 

and rats from getting in. All the foul air will, by this pro- 
cess, be driven out — a thing, as I before observed, of the 
greatest importance to the preservation of the ice. 

Now I will go on with my own mode in filling an ice- 
house. In the first place, I laid about six bunches or 
bundles of straw on the bottom of the floor, which is of 
planks laid on sleepers, (made of hemlock, which wood 
the rats, for some unknown cause, are unable to per- 
forate) lying in lime-core and coal-dust, spreading the 
straw in every direction on the floor. I set up about 
a dozen bunches perpendicularly around the four sides, 
and I had a stout, able man, no less a person than 
Parson Saxeweld's Abel, in the ice-house, with an old axe 
and a ditching shovel, (a square shovel not being so suita- 
ble.) Several men were on the ice, cutting it in blocks, 
and others were filling the wagon-bodies, which were fas- 
tened on sleigh-runners ; and as fast as a load was brought 
to the door of the ice-house, a slider, made of two planks 
fastened together by four or five elects, was raised to the 
top of the side of the wagon-body, and rested there by 
means of one of the elects underneath the plank. The 
other end of the slider ran into the door- way of the ice- 
house, projecting beyond the wall, and overhanging the 
vault. The sides of the slider were raised about three 
inches, having a strip of plank nailed firmly on each side ; 
this prevented the ice from slipping off, when thrown on 
the slider from the wagon. 

Abel commenced breaking up the blocks of ice as soon 
as they fell. He struck them with the back of the axe, 

19 



218 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD- 

which shivered each piece at a stroke, and six loads of ice 
covered the bottom of the vault. I soon saw that Abel, 
strong and willing as he was, could not keep up with the 
ardour of three teamsters, all working to the full of their 
speed ; so I made Peter jump in with another axe, and 
help him. It is really a curious and novel spectacle to see 
this thundeiing and crashing down of the ice from the 
slider, and the eager haste of the men below to shiver each 
piece as it falls, one piece succeeding the other as fast as 
two men can throw it from the wagon. >Vhen the slider 
is laid down, and the wagon away, the breakers take the 
shovel, and throw the fine ice to the comers, pressing it 
closely to the wall, which, I hear, is a very essential part 
of the process. There is no relaxation — not even for an 
instant — for the men have scarcely levelled the fragments, 
before another load of ice comes thundering down upon 
them, and the blows of the axe commence again. Even 
two men were found unequal to the task, for they could 
not keep up with the spirited teamsters ; and Stephen, not- 
-v^athstanding my objections, jumped into the vault, and took 
up the shovel. He found fault with Abel and Peter for not 
pressing the ice sufficiently against the logs. He sent for 
a pounder, such as is used in ramming down the earth, and 
pounded the ice as closely as possible, pressing the straw 
with it. 

By dint of great exertion, the ice was levelled and pound- 
ed closely to the wall by the time the next load came ; and 
thus the work proceeded imtil noon, when the horn sounded 
for dinner. Peter and Brom fed the horses, having been 
provident enough to cut straw for them yesterday ; or 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 219 

rather, Dennis should have the credit of it, having been 
advised to do it by Mr. Root, who stopped here the day 
before yesterday. You will think it very strange when 
you are told that not one drop of rum was drunk by any one 
of the men this day. At eleven o'clock my cook sent us 
a large tea-kettle full of chocolate, prepared for drinking, 
with three or four tin mugs, from which we helped our- 
selves. Every one seemed satisfied, and the work went 
menily on ; rather better, I think, than if a gallon of rum had 
been swallowed. There is not a gill of rum drunk in our 
immediate neighbourhood, and I feel confident that in a few 
3''ears ardent spirits unll entirely be given up by many 
families. 

Stephen Haywood is certainly the best-natured fellow I 
ever saw. There is something so manly and frank about 
him ; and he is so disinterested, that he is of himself suffi- 
cient to redeem a whole tribe of common characters. He 
was in and out of the ice-house a dozen times, regulating 
the drivers: ever}^ now and then something would go amiss, 
and he was in demand. One of Dr. Bentley's horses 
balked, before I was aware of it ; and I was nearer the 
wagon than Stephen, who was in the ice-house at the 
time : he was up and at the horse's head. " Brom," said 
he, " never while you live strike a horse that stops in this 
way. If you cannot make him pull by turning the other 
horse short round, you must give him his own time. I have 
tried every plan with a balky horse, and I have constantly 
found that whipping makes him worse. Let us try this." 
He quietly took the other horse by the head, and led him 
gently around, making as short a turn as the wagon would 



220 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

allow without upsetting, and to my surprise the stubborn 
horse moved off without difficulty. 

I mention the wagon because a thaw had commenced at 
noon, and the ice began to melt. The brook lies at the foot 
of a gentle declivity, which slopes to the south, so that the 
snow vanished before three o'clock, and we had to discard 
the sleigh runners. This produced some httle delay ; and 
consequently, it was dark before the last load of ice wa& 
brought to the door. We hurried thus because rain was 
apprehended, which would not only make the road heavy 
to the horses, but would muddy the ice. Of course both 
men and horses were well fed before they went home ; and 
I detained Stephen Haywood, that we might talk over the 
work of the day. Andrew, blushing deeply, declined to 
stay, as he said he had an engagement. This is the way 
with such fine spirited fellows : repose or rest, to them, is 
nothing more than change of employment. Andre w^ 
after working at the ice like a common labourer, all day, 
and acting likewise as the master of the ceremonies, both 
at the p(md where the ice was broken up, and at the load- 
ing of the wagons, was now ready to dress, and ride seve 
ral miles to take charge of Miss Wells, who had gone to 
drink tea with the Elmers, at Wicklowe. 

Stephen whispered to me, as the men were departing, 
to detain Abel, as he was something out the common 
way, independently of his strength and activity. I did 
so, and I found that Abel was no way disinclined to it. We 
all therefore drew our chairs around the fire, in my office, 
which is a small room adjoining the kitchen, and discussed 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



221 



the exploits of the day, which were of magnitude enough 
to bear a second handling. 

The old theme, of the best mode of filling an ice-house, 
was referred to. Abel approved of leaving the ice in blocks, 
if it were in blocks, and to fill up the interstices ^\dth ice 
pounded very finely, making, in short, a sort of mason work, 
and thus putting down layer after layer : observing that the 
only difficulty in this mode was, that it would take double 
the time to fill the house, which, in our changeable climate, 
would be incurring some risk — for instance, that the ice 
to-morrow, in consequence of the thaw and the rain, which 
was now falling fast, would be nearly gone, and could not 
be got in clean and sound. Stephen had tried both ways ; 
and on the whole, preferred the plan of pounding the ice fine, 
and ramming it well against the sides ; saying that he had 
known several ice-houses to fail before the season was over, 
which had been carefully filled by layers of blocks. 

I asked Abel of what country he was. Would you 
believe it, he could not tell ! He said he had crossed the 
Atlantic so often when young, that he lost all traces of" 
his infancy ; that he did not remember his mother • and that 
his father, who had always been a sailor, boarded him out 
among strangers, until he was seven years of age, when he 
took him to sea with him, until he was fifteen, at which 
period he lost his father, and not liking the profession 
he quitted it, and hired himself to an English gardener,, 
who resided at Antwerp, the place where his father died. 

19* 



222 OUR NE1GHB0URH001>. 

Abel Ross is a tall, stout, well built man, apparentlj- 
about forty years of age, remarkably good looking, and of 
industrious, temperate habits ; but there is an irritability, a 
nervousness in his manner, which ill accords with his per- 
sonal appearance. Hewas exceedingly uneasy while he told 
his short and simple story, which, but for Stephen, I should 
have curtailed still more. Whilst his eye was roving, and 
his manner indicated a desire to retreat, Stephen stepped 
out of the room, which had the effect of quieting Abel at 
once, " That young chap," said he, " has a deal more cu- 
riosity than is becoming ; he is constantly betraying one 
into talking of one's self — a thing I do not admire. His 
brother, Andrew, has a vast deal more discretion ; and yet, 
Stephen is a fine fellow, too ; I have a notion that I shall 
live with him, if he ever get a farm of his own." 

"I should suppose, Abel," said I, "that you have but 
httle to say of yourself, which the Haywoods do not, by 
this time, know. You have been ten years in the neigh- 
bourhood, have you not V^ 

" Yes, I have been their neighbour for that length of 
time. I left England," said he, blushing deeply, " about 
twelve years ago — found employment with Mr. Saxeweld, 
who then resided at Antwerp, to which place I had turned 
my steps. I came with him to America, and here am 
likely to end my days." 

"I wonder, Abel," said I, " that such a fine-looking fel- 
low as you are should have remained single. Why have 
you not married ? A good wife, and a fine, healthy set of 
children around you, would add greatly to your happiness." 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



223 



He cast his keen, bright, blue eye at me, and then gave a 
short cough, turning liis head from me. Again his eye 
glanced, but this time he made an effort to speak. " Mr. 
Allen," said he, in rather a sharper tone than I liked, " I 
suspect that Master Stephen has contrived to make you 
ask this question." 

" I give you my word that he has not," said I ; " the 
question was a very natural one — such as might be put to 
any one in your circumstances. I am very sorry if it have 
awakened any unpleasant feelings." 

Abel looked towards the door, and then at me. He ap- 
peared to be desirous of telling me something, but was fear- 
ful of the entrance of Stephen. At length he spoke, but 
with a smile, and a manner quieted by a strong eifort. 

" You see, Mr. Allen," said he, " that I am foolishly un- 
willing to speak of one particular period of my life, and 
Mr. Stephen has discovered my reluctance. It is a circum- 
stance to which I never could refer without great pain ; and 
when speaking of myself, which I have been sometimes 
obliged to do, I have no doubt stammered and blundered, 
so as to give the appearance of there being some mystery 
attached to my life. If the young gentleman were 
here now," said poor Abel, boldly, sitting erect in his 
chair, and speaking in a clear, full voice, " I would tell the 
thmg out at once, and have done with it, though I know I 
shall be forever quizzed about it." 

" Do not tell it, then," said I ; "we can have no right to 
know what you wish' to conceal. I am sure the event is 
nothing that will injure you in the opinion of your friends."' 



224 aUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

" No, indeed, Mr. Allen," said he, blushing and laughing^. 
" it is but a silly affair after all,. and I only wonder that I have 
suffered it to torment me so long as it has. Perhaps, when 
I have talked it over,, it may not vex me so much as it has 
done." 

Just then Stephen returned, with Sam and the tea tray ;. 
for although we had supped, yet we had not partaken of 
the coffee — ^neither of us hking it at that meal. I found 
out afterwards that Stephen ordered the tea, hoping that 
Abel Ross would have his tongue unlocked, and that he 
would, unawares, tell that which he and his young compa- 
nions had so great a desire to know. I must tell you that 
such men as Abel Ross^ in the country, and on farms, are 
fairly entitled to a seat at the table. They make no 
scruple to take a chair, either at dinner or supper, unless 
there are ladies present, and even then some of them are no 
way backward. As far as I can judge, they would rather 
not do it ; but the fear of being thought ignorant of their 
OTivn rights causes them to assume a tone and manner not 
suited to their situation. I do not say that this custom 
prevails in every house,, but only amongst plain, unpretend- 
ing farmers, like our friends of HoUybranch. Abel Ross 
had fallen into the habits of the American labourers, and 
ten years' residence in this country has worn off his reluc- 
tance and sheepishness. He felt as much at home in 
my room, as if it were his own chamber. 

When the- tea was despatched, and the fire replenished, 
Sam withdrew, and drawing his chair at a little distance 
from us, Abel Ross, with half averted face began, I ought 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 225 

to tell you that I left the room for a few minutes to write a 
note to Stephen, begging him not to look particularly eager 
or interested, or to ask any questions, but to let Abel ma- 
nage his story as he chose. This note Sam gave to him 
after I returned to the room, calling him out for that pur- 
pose. Finding that Abel felt awkward at entering on an 
unpleasant theme abruptly, I spoke of the singularity of his 
not knowing the country to which he belonged, and then 
gradually led him to speak of the English gardener with 
whom he lived. 



226 (JUR NEIGHBOURHOOIP. 



LETTER XXXr. 

" I HAVE never disguised any part of my history frorn 
Unworthy motives, Master Stephen," said he, casting one 
of his peculiar glances at our friend, "but vi^hat I am about 
to tell has never yet been told to any human being, and I 
have never spoken of it, much as I suffered at the time that 
it occurred, because I dreaded the ridicule of such young 
gentlemen as yourself, Master Stephen. But I'll make a 
bold push, and see how I shall feel when more know it than 
myself I told you, Mr. Allen, that I went to live with an 
English gardener, I remained with him until I was twen- 
ty-two years of age. I was then prevailed on to go to 
England with a gentleman of the name of Clives, who, 
having made a large fortune in Antwerp, was returning 

to his native country. A man more ignorant of the art of 
gardening I never saw, and I was heartily glad to leave 
him at the end of two years. He never could understand 
why a tree could not grow as fast as a cabbage, and I 
have actually caught him pulling up a plant to see whether 
it had taken root, just as children do. If he had kept quiet, 
I should have borne with him, and in the end could have 
taught him something, but he found great pleasure in com- 
plaining of the "fatigues of a day's hard pruning," when fifty 
dollars could not have repaired the damage he did to his 
trees and shrubs. He could not understand the feeling which 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 227 

made me leave him, for he paid me liberally, and did not 
exact a moment of my time after working hours, as many 
inconsiderate gentlemen do, but finding me determined to 
quit him he gave me a good letter of recommendation to a 
lady who was his cousin. 

" I was very glad at the time to get into a lady's service, 
thinking that there, at least, I should meet with a person 
who could understand what I was about. The lady's 
name was Grovesnor ; she was a widow, with an ample 
fortune, and had but two children — both married. The 
eldest, a son, was settled near her ; his wife was a very 
agreeable lady, and they had four very fine children. The 
other was a daughter, who had recently married, and had, 
with her husband, gone to America. Mrs. Grovesnor, was, 
therefore, when I first went there, alone, and very much out 
of spirits ; and what made it much worse, she had allowed, 
or rather prevailed on her daughter to take vith her a 
young woman who had been brought up in the family — a 
sort of upper domestic, and one so very necessary to Mrs. 
Grovesnor, that she might almost as soon have lost her 
right hand. I heard nothing but regrets from the whole 
family, even the little children pined after her, and all her 
fellow-servants could think of nothing else to talk of but 
Fanny's cleverness, and Fanny's good nature. 

" I respected Mrs. Grovesnor very much, for if she did not 
understand the art of gardening, she did not, like Mr. Clives, 
torment me by destroying the plants and shrubs as fast as 
I planted them. I should have liked my place exceedingly ■ / 

if there had been any one to ask me questions or to praise j 



228 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

my work when done. You cannot think, Mr. Allen, hov/ 
dreary and comfortless it is to work hard all day and do 
your best, besides really making great improvements, with- 
out an eye to rest on you or a voice to commend you. 1 
tried hard to interest the lady in what I was doing, but 
although she was evidently very well pleased that the gar- 
dens improved and that the plants and shrubs increased, 
yet she took no particular interest in what I was doing. 

" * I am sorry, Abel,' said she, one day, ' that I do not 
understand these things sufficiently. I know that your la- 
bour would be more pleasant, if you had some one that un. 
derstood what you were doing. If my Fanny were here, 
you would have sympathy enough, for she is as clever at 
your trade as you are yom'self ' 

" Nothing but Fanny — Fanny's name was on everyone's 
lips ; and what was most extraordinary, the pretty young 
woman who had been advanced to take her place, felt no 
jealousy at hearing the eternal theme of Fanny's goodness. 
I began at last to fall into the universal lament ; and before 
I had been there six months, I caught myself wishing for 
Fanny's return even as earnestly as those who knew her. 

" If my Fanny ever get manied," said Mrs. Grovesnor 
to her son, as he stood by the door of a very pretty cottage, 
" I intend to give her this snug little cottage and that pretty 
orchard ; so you must keep it in good repair," said she, 
turning to me, " and cover it with honey-suckles — and put 
all kinds of plants and shrubs in the garden : not that I 
ever wish her to marry, but such things will happen some- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 229 

times ; and Fanny must then have a wedding present.' So 
I ornamented the garden, and covered the house with beau- 
tiful vines. Every body now became interested in my 
work ; and Susan, the young woman who was in Fanny's 
place, paid daily visits to the cottage, to see the improve- 
ments, at which I worked after sundown, and at every 
little odd, spare time. Never did work go on so cheerfully, 
now that I had something to which I could look forward ; 
and in spite of all my reasoning on the subject, I could not 
but promise myself that the cherished being, so beloved 
and valued by the whole family, was one day to be my 
wife. 

" You laugh, master Stephen; but remember that I was 
but three and twenty, your own age, when this thing hap- 
pened ; and I was full of romance and very sanguine. I 
could not resist the feeling that this young woman was to 
be every thing to me ; for there was scarcely an hour in the 
day that her name was not mentioned in some way or 
other. It appeared to me that she was faultless, and of 
her good looks I could not doubt, as I often heard of the 
uncommonly sweet expression of countenance she had, and 
of the grace with which she moved. Sometimes I was in 
despair, lest one so perfect should be thought more than my 
equal ; and then again I would cheer up, and determine 
to rise to her level, by improving myself. She wrote 
a very beautiful hand, and could keep accounts. My 
writing was clumsy ; so I took lessons in private, and got 

into a habit of reading. Fanny had very white and even 

20 



230 eUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

teeth ; and good teeth were such a passion with her, that 
she had paid the greatest attention to Mr. Grovesnor's chil- 
dren in that particular. Fanny disliked tobacco, so I left 
off chewmg, determined that she should not dislike me on 
that account; and I even took great pains to keep my nails 
white and well cut, because I constantly heard of Fanny's 
nice nails. Mrs. Grovesnor heard from her daughter very 
frequently ; and there was always as much said of Fanny 
as of herself. She constantly spoke of her mothei-^ kind- 
ness in letting her have this faithful young woman ; but 
said that she could not take comfort in such a treasure, 
because she feared that her mother must feel her loss ; that 
she could not yet bear to part with her, as she was more 
like a sister than a servant. 

"At such times my spirits fell, and hope deserted me ; for 
certainly, she that was on the footing of a sister with Mrs. 
Grovesnor's daughter, would never descend to one of my 
humble rank. It may appear very strange to you, Mr. 
Allen, but it is a fact, that this young woman's name never 
passed my lips. I could not bear to speak of her. I had 
the feeling that my thoughts would be exposed, and that I 
should at once have my hopes crushed. All that I learned 
was bygleaning from the conversations that naturally arose 
about her ; and whether Susan discovered from my counte- 
nance that no discourse was so pleasant to me, as that which 
related to Fanny, certain it is that this young woman washer 
constant theme. If it had not been that my thoughts were 
so occupied with another, I might have won pretty Susan 



OUR NElGHBCiURHOOB. 231 

Green — no bad partner for any man — but I let the oppor- 
tunity pass • and Benjamin Runnel, a carpenter, courted and 
married her during this violent love-dream of mine. Mrs. 
Grovesnor g'ave her a handsome outfit, and assisted her in a 
number of ways, all of which I might have shared, if my 
attention had not been diverted from this prudent connex- 
ion, to one of a less substantial nature. 

" I laid out all my earnings on the cottage : many is the 
day that I hired a carpenter to work at repairs and to put 
up little convenient closets and shelves. I purchased, too: 
a number of books, and had Fanny's name written out in 
full, by the schoolmaster, who taught me to improve my 
handwriting. The books, however, I kept locked up in 
one of the closets, as I did all the little articles that I 
bought, lest some of the family should see them, and get 
at my secret. 

'' Two years slipped away, and still Fanny did not return, 
I began to fear that some one in America would discover 
her worth and prevail on her to settle there ; but Mrs. 
Grovesnor spoke confidently of her returning the ensuing 
spring with her daughter, who was to pay her a visit. It 
was settled that Susan and her husband were to return 
with Mrs. Barclay in the fall, and Fanny was to remain. 
All my happiness I then fore-dated, from the time that she 
was to be at home. I employed the tedious winter in im- 
proving myself; and — don't laugh. Master Stephen — in 
learning to play on the flageolet ; for I could not but hear 
that Fanny was passionately fond of music, and that Mr. 



2S2 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

Grovesnor used to come over to his mother's very often, in 
the evening to play on the flute, purposely to please the 
universal favourite. 

" The winter wore away ; and March found me very busy 
in putting- the grounds in order. I did not forget the pretty 
cottage, which I as good as looked upon as my own. A 
friend of Mr. Barclay's had, at this time, sent over a young 
black man to get a thorough knowledge of gardening ; 
and hearing, through partial friends^ that I was master of 
the art, he was put under my care. He was to remain 
for a twelvemonth, or longer, if he found he was gaining 
knowledge. I should have taken quite a fancy to the ne- 
gro, for he was a good looking, tidy fellow, had I not heard 
that Faimy, who was the gentlest and most tender-hearted 
creature in the world, could not bear these poor unfortunate 
people near her. Philip therefore made no great progress 
in my good graces ; and the business of teaching went on 
slowly. What the cause was I know not ; but the fellow 
learned as if by instinct ; he was too proud to ask. but by 
dint of watching me from the corner of his eye, and by 
reading several books on gardening, he got on very well, 
without much help from me. 

" One day, just after a fine shower, I set about transplant- 
ing some flowers, which I had raised in the hot-bed. Phi- 
lip broke through his reserve, by asking me to let him as- 
sist in setting them out, as he was very anxious to know 
the best mode. He asked whether I cut ofl^ any of the 
roots before I planted them. ' What do you want to know 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOB, 13^ 

about flowers V said I ; ' orchards and vegetables are 
what you came to attend to, and not flowers." ' I know 
that, Mr. Abel,' said the poor fellow, very ci\illy, " but 
Mrs. Barclay is remarkably fond of flowers, and as I hope 
to work for her sometimes, when I return, I really should 
like to know." I was won out of my churlishness by his 
good temper, and did the best to teach him the true mode 
of transplanting flowers. I told him to have a hole dug 
about six or eight inches deep, and so-mewhere about afoot 
square ; and to put in this hole some well rotted manure, 
mixed up with garden mould. I showed him that I put 
each plant in the centre ; cutting off some of the dangling 
roots, or if they were fresh, leting the roots lie sideways, 
and then covering them lightly with earth. 

"Getting a little sociable, I thought I might venture to 
ask a question or two in return ; so I spoke of the family, 
both those that were in England, and those that were in 
America. I praised Susan, now Mrs. Runnell, and said, 
(liar that I was,) that I was very sorry, she was to leave 
us. I did not know the young woman Fanny, wh.o was to 
take her place. 

" ' I do,' said Philip, ' I know her ; and I can tell you,. 
Mr. Abelj that she is a proud upstart, not thinking such a 
poor fellow as myself worthy of her notice. I can tell her 
that I shall not feel her loss when she quits America ; there 
are many young women there who are infinitely more 
agreeable, and Mrs. Runnell will be liked there more thaa 
she is." I could have knocked the fellow down for his in*- 



234 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

soletice — he — the black puppy, to dare to speak of such a 
being as Fanny, in this manner ; I could not bear it ; so I 
told him that I honoured her the more, for keeping so pie- 
suming a fellow at a proper distance ; that I should do so 
myself; and to begin, I told him to walk off, and leave me 
alone. 

" The young man stared at me for a second or two in 
mute astonishment, but he left me to answer this unpro- 
voked attack to my own conscience as well as I could. I 
found myself justifying the insult ; and the only way in 
which I could do it, was to feel assured that he had been 
insolent in Fanny's presence, and that she had reproved 
him, which was the cause of his displeasure. All this had 
a tendency to make me hate negroes; and thus, by degrees, 
I took such a dislike to them, that I always turne d away 
in disgust when I came in contact with the very few who 
were in our neighbourhood. 

"As to the poor black, Philip, he went over to Mr.Groves- 
nor, and prevailed on him to allow him to remain there 
utitil he could return. He made no complaint, but merely 
stated that I appeared too much occupied to be able to give 
him instruction, and that he did not like to intrude. The 
family were very much surprised at this step of Philip^s, and 
remonstrated ; but I candidly told them that I could not 
bear to associate with negroes— and independently of this, 
I thought that the young man was presuming and con- 
ceited. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 235 

" The first of April came ; the ship was expected every 
hour, and the Grovesnors were almost sick ^vith anxiety. 
As to myself, I was scarcely sane. One moment in a deli- 
rium of joy, and with the happiest anticipations ; the next 
crest-fallen and unhappy, in the apprehension of being 
overlooked or thought unworthy. At length we had intel- 
ligence of their arrival — the carriages were on their return 
— we were all in our Sunday-clothes — the cottage open, and 
breathingnothingbutperfumes; not a stone, not a pebble, was 
awry — the carriage approached the house. Mrs. Groves- 
nor, son, daughter in-law, grand-children, domestics — all 
were on the portico waiting — I breathless and agitated — 
the steps were down, mother and daughter were locked in 
each other's arms ; and in the next instant, Fanny — she, 
the pride and treasure of the whole family — Fanny was 
asked for ; and I saw Mrs. Grovesnor embrace her with a 
tenderness equal to that shown to her own daughter. My 
spirits sunk. ' Fanny, my dear Fanny,' said Mrs. Gro- 
vesnor, ' how thoroughly happy your return has made me ! 
I heard — I had a fear — in short, Fanny, I was really afraid 
you might be tempted to remain in America. You were 
very thin when you went away, Fanny ; lift up your veil 

that I may see whether you have improved.' Now 

comes my secret, master Stephen : I can scarcely go on ; 
but I will swallow this cup of tea, and then you shall hear. 
Turn away your eye, master Stephen, while I finish. 

"Well, this Fanny, for whom I had for three years suffered 
all the hopes and fears of a lover j for whom I had expended 



236 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD^, 

all my earnings ; for whom I had lost the chance of real 
happiness for life — for Mrs. Runnel might have been Mrs. 
Ross ; she for whom I had led a lonely and churlish life, 
awakening no sympathy in my fellow-servants — this in- 
comparable creature ; the darling, the theme of the whole 
neighbourhood ; and she who was likewise caressed by all, 
as if she were a sister or a daughter — this Fanny, master 
Stephen, lifted up her veil — I saw her ; she was a negro, 
one of the blackest I ever beheld !" 

Abel Ross, as he pronounced the last word, arose, stalked 
across the room, lingered at the door for an instant, expect- 
ing a burst of merriment, from Stephen, at least, and then 
left the room for the night. 

I pressed Stephen's arm tightly, and raised my finger to 
keep him in order : for I saw that he was ready to expire. 
I would not for the world have hurt poor AbeFs feelings by 
laughing at a circumstance that still gave him so much 
pain. 

I tliink I never was more imprepared for any thing than 
for this conclusion to Abel's love adventure ; but yet, in 
spite of the young woman's colour, I could not help being- 
interested in her. We English people have not the same 
dislike to the blacks that the Americans have, for we do 
not see them in their degraded state, and therefore do not 
feel that disgust towards them. I was sorry that Abel left 
us so abruptly, as I was eager to know what ensued after 
discovering that the young woman was black. I asked 
Stephen to go with me up to his room, that we might try 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 237 

to obtain the remainder of his curious story, but he de- 
clined, although he confessed that he had a great desire to 
know. 

Feeling very uncomfortable about it — I believe, my dear 
Edward, that men have as eager a curiosity as women — I 
even went up to the chamber which had been appropriated 
to Abel, and knocked softly at the door. " What have you 
come after, Master Stephen ?" said he, as he hastily jerked 
open the door. 

" It is not Stephen," said I ; " pray let me come in for a 
tew moments ; why have you no light, Abel ?" 

'* I never take a candle in a bed-room," said he, " when I 
once know where the bed stands. But come in, sir ; please 
to set your candle outside of the door." 

I did so, and entered. " Abel," said I, " we both sincerely 
sympathize with you in your disappointment ; it was, in- 
deed, a cruel blow, and one that could never have been fore- 
seen. But you must not let it prey upon your mind ; now 
that you have mentioned it to us, you will not feel the thing 
so seriously as you have done. Accustom yourself to talk 
of it to us whenever the subject suits, and, above all things, 
go into female society. There are many excellent vv'omen 
in your neighbourhood, who would soon make you forget 
poor black Fanny, if you would but try. But I really 
should bke to know more about her. Did you leave Mrs. 
Grovesnor immediately, and did Philip return to America ?" 

All the time I was speaking Abel was undressing, and 
as I ended, he rolled his large, heavy body in the bed, and 
drew the bed clothes over his head. After a pause he said, 



238 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

in a strong, harsh voice, in as disrespectful a tone as possi- 
ble—" I know but little of them, having left the house that 
very instant ; but I heard, about two years ago, that she 
was married to Phihp— that theyiiad three children— and 
that the eldest of them, a girl, is in New York, li\ing with 
Mi-s. Barclay. If you want to know any thing more, Mr. 
Allen, please to ask me in the morning ; for I am as tired 
as a dog, and want to go to sleep." 

Poor Abel ! He wanted no sleep, tired though he were. 
I never knew a common man possessing such a morbid sen- 
sibility. But there is no help for it. I will try to get 
him a wife — the only cure for such a distemper as his is. 

When I went below, a great pleasure awaited me, for 
there was Mr. North, snugly seated by the fire, feeling, as 
he said, as happy in being again under my roof, as if it 
were his own. Stephen was bustling about for a fresh cup 
of tea, which, as all the servants had gone to bed, he had 
to prepare himself. This occupation allowed of our being 
alone together for a few minutes, and I learned with plea- 
sure that part of his chagrin had already worn oiF. We 
deferred talking over the main point of the subject until 
Stephen had retired, which he very delicately did as soon 
as the beverage was drunk, 

Mr. North is determined to give up all thoughts of Miss 
Sidney. He thinks that she is not suited to him — that she 
has not a proper conception of what is expected of a cler- 
gyman's wafe — and therefore ought not to wed a clergy- 
man. He acknowledges that he was becoming very much 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 239 

?iUached to her, and that it required more exertion than he 
was aware of to shake off his uncomfortable feelings — that 
it is better for him to avoid her society for the present. He 
soon dropped the subject, and I then amused him with the 
account of Abel's love fit. I never saw a man more 
amazed. He says he knows the young woman — that he 
became acquainted with Mrs. Barclay when quite a lad — 
that she was at the Springs with this identical Fanny — and 
that Mr. Beverly, liking the society of both Mr. and Mrs. 
Barclay, joined them in an excursion to Niagara. He 
thinks that Miss Beverly must recollect Fanny, as she was 
nursed by her most tenderly, when ill at the Springs, after 
their return from Niagara ; and that Juha could with diffi- 
culty be prevailed upon to leave the place without her. 

Mr. North has engaged lodgings with selfish Mr. Pell. 
He acknowledged to me, laughingly, that he could not 
take to the " Streamer." Mr. Pell had offered him fair, 
and he had no children, and what was better, no dogs. 



240 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER XXXII. 

We saw nothing of Abel this morning, he having left the 
house before breakfast ; in fact there was nothing further 
for him to do, as the few loads yet to be pounded up to fill 
the ice-house could be done by my own people — even Ste- 
phen Haywood thought he might return to Hollybranch, 
but I was sorry that I did not see Abel that I might have 
won a little upon his soured nature. 

In came Dr. Bentley while we were at breakfast, and 
such a shaking of hands ensued as could only result from 
real kindness. Mr. North melted by degrees, and — such is 
man — before an hour had elapsed he was on his way with 
us to West Hill, where I was most impatient to be. Miss 
Sidney started, and turned red and pale by turns as Mr. 
North entered, but he took his seat quietly by Mrs. Bent- 
ley, who, with Julia, welcomed him most kindly. After 
chatting together a few minutes, Dr. Bentley asked me to 
go out and look at the ice-house, which I declined to do un- 
less Miss Beverly accompanied us. She laughingly con- 
sented, and we left our three friends behind to make things 
clear. It was with great difficulty that we could find mat- 
ter enough to interest us out of doors ; for after the ice-house 
had been admired, and the dry tan-walk had been suf- 
ficiently extolled, we were wishing to return to the par- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 24] 

lour fire. I felt unwilling to let Miss Beverly remain out of 
doors any longer, so the Doctor ushered us into his study, a 
neat, comfortable room, where, by way of variety, we 
sometimes took tea. 

Here we were soon left alone by the ever-busy Doctor 
who has a thousand different kinds of employment in the 
course of the day, all of which he contrives to finish admi- 
rably well. I suppose he thought I would profit by this op- 
portunity, and learn how far I had advanced in Julia's good 
opinion ; but if he did, he mistook, for we wiled away the 
time in talking over the dilemma of Mr. North and Miss 
Sidney, at the same time having the consciousness that we 
were in a situation that made us approach nearer to each 
other's sentiments than we had been before. 

Mrs. Bentley joined us in about a quarter of an hour, 
having done the same kind office to her two friends in the 
the parlour that the Doctor did to us, which was, leaving 
them alone. We did not question her as to what was pass- 
ing, as we did not think it fair, and she was silent on the 
subject herself 

We sat together the remainder of the morning, the Doc- 
tor looking in upon us occasionally, and wondering how the 
party in the parlour was getting forward, until the servant 
went in to lay the cloth. This brought Mr. North to us in 
the study, and he soon told his success in the pleased expres- 
sion of his face. Julia flew up stairs to Miss Sidney, and 
I congratulated my friend. A courtship which, fi-om the 
nature of the parties, bid fan* to be of at least a twelve^ 
month's duration, had come to a close in a very short time.- 
I do not see why I may net as well press mysuit with Ji^lia, 

21 



242 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

as to keep myself in this doubtful kind of way, making me 
unfit for employment, of any kind. What a strange kind 
of misty, dreamy, twilight, or rather moonlight, sort of feeling 
comes over a man when in love. I have sat for hours by 
Julia's side, cutting up papers — scrawling my name and 
hers over whole sheets of paper, or learning to plait watch 
guards. I have even threaded needles, straightened pins, 
and put heads of sealing wax to broken eyed needles. Mr, 
North did nothing of this kind, but then his mind has never 
been clear as to the course he ought to pursue — we shall 
see how he will effeminate, now that he and the lady un- 
derstand each other. 

This is not the kind of thing with which you expected 
me to entertain you; but until my fate is decided with Miss 
Beverly, you must have patience. I promise you, then, 
to go systematically to work, and talk to you of horticul- 
ture, and such matters as appertain thereto. Meantime 
let me finish what I have yet to say of this day^s events, 
for having begun the history of Mr. North and Miss Sidney, 
it will be treating them with less importance than they de- 
serve if I say no more of them. 

Miss Sidney looked very foolish, and but half satisfied 
with herself; but Mr. North behaved with great dignity, and 
consideration — not looking conscious, nor showing that 
he was on a more intimate footing with her to-day than 
he was before — the very thing for a lady of her peculiar 
sensitiveness. Dr. Bentley was only too happy to have 
his old friend back again, and he could scarcely keep with- 
in bounds. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. S43 

We had a delightful day. Julia is cheerful, and is hourly 
gaining confidence in herself I find her intelligent beyond 
my expectations ; and as if the thing were settled in her own 
mind, she is attentive to every thing that concerns my plans 
and movements. This I see without pretending to know 
it. She is truth itself; and it is happiness to think that I 
may aspire to the heart of one so ingenuous and yet so 
firm. 

Julia — in fact we all are anxious to have a solution of 
this mystery of Ellen Beverly. The contents of the box 
would satisfy our curiosity, but that must not be opened. 
Mr. Beverly had no relation of the same name. All this 
is perplexing, but we must have patience. Dinah is weary 
of living alone. Now that the money is removed, she might 
as well return ; but we wish to do nothing to initate the 
old lady, so we intend that she shall remain until we hear 
again from Mrs. Bell. 

Miss Beverly recollects Fanny perfectly well. She used 
frequently to speak of her to her father, who thought 
Famiy an exceedingly interesting woman. Abel Ross, I 
presume, did not wish to ascertain whether she were hand- 
some . it was the colour which shocked him. He appears 
to be a religious man, and no doubt reads the bible ; but it 
never occurred to his thoughts that the aueen of Sheba 
was a negro, and yet she sat at the table with Solomon, in 
all his glory. Indeed there are few persons acquainted 
with the fact, of her being a black woman. 

When we assembled at the tea-table, the whole party 
were tranquil and happy. Mr. North and Miss Sidney con- 



244 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

versed together as soberly as if they had been married a 
twelvemonth. I know enough of Mr. North's disposition; 
to see that he is uncommonly agitated ; and this is the 
opinion too of Dr. Bentley. Miss Sidney is grave, but not 
repentant ; and Mrs. Bentley, with her usual alacrity and 
sagacity, has arranged all their plans. Their great desire 
has been to keep Miss Sidney with them, which they now 
X hope to effect by her union with this gentleman. They are 
wealthy themselves, and their niece is independent ; so that 
the want of fortune on the part of Mr. North, is no impedi- 
ment, 

I must leave off writing, for I strained my wrist yester- 
day, and my hand is very much swollen. I doubt whether 
I shall be able to write in a week. Dr. Bentley has just 
come in to insist on my having something applied to tho 
inflamed part ; so I must bid you good night. 



V3tJll NEIGHBOURHOOD 245 



LETTER XXXIIl 

I Have be^n unable to write, or, in fact, even to dress 
myself, for the last ten days, as my wrist was so very stiff 
and painful ; but I have been amongst kind friends, and 
have had an opportunity of seeing more of Julia than 1 
otherv/ise should. Mr. Parr sent us the manuscript which 
he promised us, I read it aloud to the family yesterday ; 
and our admiration for this singular and amiable man has 
very much increased. He feels the deepcist interest in the 
concerns of all those that he esteems ; and for those who 
are dependent on him. His pAcellent wife joins him in all 
his philanthropic projects. It is the most perfect union J 
ever saw. As you will see and admire this singular family, 
I cannot do better than to make yoa acquainted with his 
early history. Miss Beverly has promised to copy it for 
you, which, when finished, you will get by the first packet. 

One thing I forgot to mention ; which is, when you read 
Abel Ross's little history, do not let your friends know the 
finale beforehand : this was suggested to me by the ladieS; 
who say that the story has a better relish by the mystery 
which attends it ; and that half the interest in it will be 
lost, if it is known from the first that Fanny is a negro ; so 
say nothing of it. 

21* 



246 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

We all went to hear the Lecture on " Women;' I am 
not able to write any more, as my wrist is still painful, or 
I would tell you how we liked it. Julia, who seems to have 
time for every thing, has insisted on copying the lecture foi 
you. I shall send the manuscript with this letter: on se^ 
cond thought, I shall get permission from Mr. Devereux to 
have it published in the Evening Post, and I will then send 
you a printed copy. 

WOMEN. 

Twenty years ago it was observed, by an able writer, 
that the most advantageous and characteristic event of that 
day, was the improved condition of women ; and it was 
further contended, " that a man of extraordinary powers 
might aiise in the darkest g^ges, and diffuse a sudden light 
throughout the gloom — whexeas it required a widety 
spread civilization to develope equal powers in a woman." 

We fully agree in the justice of the first remark ; and if 
we accede to the latter, it will only be so far as to acknow- 
ledge the reality of the fact, as it appears, without admitting 
that a natm*al cause exists to justify the assertion. If we 
look back to no very distant time, we shall find that the 
condition of woman was deplorable indeed ; and om* asto 
nishment is very great, not at the privileges which she now 
enjoys, but that the amelioration, far short as it falls of what 
it should be, has been effected so gradually and so quietly, 
that we camrot distmctly point out the cause which pro- 
duced the amendment, nor the time when it commenced. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 247 

How men, claiming the right of being the natural pro- 
tectors of women, could at that time have kept them in 
such a state of vassalage and humiliation, is incredible ; and 
when we consider how submissive and powerless they 
themselves are during three periods of their existence — in- 
fancy, courtship, and old age ; nay, we may add a fourth 
period, too, which sooner or later comes to all men — ill 
health — we are more amazed, that women have endured 
so much with so little complaint, and with so few attempts 
at retaliation. Indeed, the rehef which a succession of for- 
tunate events afforded them, has in no way excited a desire 
even in the most ambitious, to aim at supremacy. They 
are willing to remain where nature has placed them, know- 
ing that the space allows them scope enough for their pur 
poses ; and they are disposed to acknowledge man as their 
guardian, now that he is in a fair way of yielding up his 
ancient prejudices ; and they, in return for this boon, are 
content with the amount of the privileges which they 
, enjoy. 

Men were sanctioned in the odious and savage practice 
of beating their wives for the smallest offence ; and although 
tliere might not be any law authorizing it, yet they were 
coimtenanced in the brutal practice of exposing them for 
sale in the market-place, with a halter about their necks, 
like cattle for the shambles! That these and other oppres- 
sive and humiliating customs were confined principally to the 
lower orders, does not lessen the enormity of the evil — for a 
woman is a woman still, be she a woman of rank, or a slave. 
Nor does it lessen the moral turpitude of men in the higher 



248 OUR KEIGHBOURHOOl). 

walks of life, that they themselves kept their passions imdo! 
such control, as that their wives were not exposed to simi 
lar ill usage They looked on whilst these enormities were 
passing ; and it was they who enacted those laws whicli 
encouraged flagellation; nor could the minor evils under 
which the sex suffered have ever existed, but for the apa- 
thy, to say the least of it, with which men viewed it. 

That women of rank found themselves exempt froni 
these barbarities and humiliations, was in some measure 
owing to the remains of that chivalrous spirit which pre- 
vailed during the long period of the crusades, and which 
still lingered in the bosoms of the descendants of that high- 
toned, enthusiastic race. They had, by degrees, schooled 
themselves into an elevated and refined sentiment with 
respect to women : each man, in love as well as in religion. 
'• set up a bright particular star," which he worshipped, and 
to which he dedicated his fortune and his life. 

But distinctly as this marked the difference between the 
two classes of women, the rich and the poor, it by no means 
followed that the former enjoyed all the immunities to 
which they were entitled, and to which they now aspire. 
They were then, to be sure, exalted to the envied, and, at 
the same time, invidious, rank of idols, where they were 
upheld in solemn state and grandeur, at the pleasure of 
these knights of romance. The long probation which these 
visionary personages endured, was not so much the effect 
of " hard hearted cruelty," as they were fain to call it, ou 
the part of their mistresses, as in reality to an over-wroughi 
sentiment and fastidious taste in themselves. They affected 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 249 

to hold women in little esteem, when they relaxed from a 
certain rigom* of demeanour, or allowed a lover the privilege 
of kissing their hand under a seven years' courtship. To 
so great a length did a lover carry this foolish devotion, that, 
as he kept at a distance himself, so he did not allow any 
other man to approach the ** lady of his love," even with 
that tone of familiarity which a relationship or a long inti- 
macy warrants. Very frequently men had to atone for 
such indiscretions with their Hves — indiscretions which, in 
our enlightened day, would be considered as necessary acts 
of com'tesy, the omission of which would subject the 
offender to ridicule 

Tliis factitious sentiment was a serious disadvantage to 
women, inasmuch as it threw a halo of false light around 
them, through which they did not venture to penetrate. 
Their vision, bounded by the specious glare, gave them er- 
roneous notions of their own consequence ; and thus de- 
ceived into a behef of the sincerity of the homage and de- 
ference which was paid to their rank and their charms, 
they believed in the reality of their own claims, and wrap 
ped themselves up in dignity and ignorance. They repaid 
with haughtiness, and often with caprice, the selfish adula 
tion of the men. 

This unreal, artificial devotion to the female sex, became 
deprived of its high romantic cast, when the grand, over- 
whelming, exciting cause was withdrawn , and as soon as 
man changed fi-om an impassioned lover and a bigoted 
crusader, to the sameness and tameness of domestic life ; 
the highly wrought picture which he had drawn of female 



250 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

excellence, vanished from his eyes, and a woman was found 
to be no goddess to her husband. But evident as this was 
to his own senses, it was not so easy a matter to convince 
the other sex that they were mere women. They could 
not be ungoddessed at pleasure. 

It is always a more diffictilt thing to eradicate folly and 
vice than to impcirt wisdom and virtue. The sad and ig- 
nominious reverse from a " lady love," holding arbritar} 
rule over the bravest and most distinguished of the other 
sex, to that of a domestic drudge, having only partial do- 
minion over a set of ignorant female servants, was " a 
falling from high estate," not to be endured patiently. 
Their discontent at the change showed itself in the petty 
affairs of their household ; and, as they could not regain 
their power, their superfluous energies were diverted to other 
channels. Kept in a state of meniaJ bondage themselves, 
how could they enlighten those beneath them ? Accor- 
dingly, their dependents were rude and servile, remaining 
in the most abject state of ignorance ; and although pos- 
sessing faculties equal to those of the present daj", having 
no other traits to distinguish them from animals than what 
speech afforded them. 

As It respected mental qualifications, the upper classes of 
females were but little removed from their domestics. It 
seemed no part of man's policy to enhght them, or to 
elevate them to their own standard, and thus, by degrees, 
what was unwarranted assumption, came to be a confirmed 
opinion, " that women were an inferior order of beings, anti 
incapable of being instructed to the same extent with oui 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 251 

•reives." We never considered that we ourselves sprung 
immediately from this inferior race, and that the most im- 
portant part of our lives was intrusted to their care and 
direction — nay, more, that on their skill and tenderness the 
whole scheme of domestic happiness depended. 

In other matters, such as politics, religion, science or art 
there were various and conflicting opinions, and men were 
brought to the sword and never ending disputes to support 
their separate notions, there being always as much variance 
of opinion as there are points of dispute ; but there was no 
difference of sentiment v;ith respect to the capacities of wo- 
men. The whole world, barbarous and civilized, were di, 
vided into two classes — male and female — physical strength 
belonged to the one sex, and what, therefore, was left for 
the other but submission ? It was, however, no great proof 
of our superiority to take our tone from barbarians, who 
always considered women as inferior to themselves. 

If we compare the condition of women, even in the 
higher walks of life, with those of our own time, limited as 
their privileges still are, we shall find that the fanaticisms of 
the day operated injuriously on their interests, and that the 
lowstate towhich they were reduced was mainly attributable 
to the furious and obstinate zeal of religious bigots ; for wo- 
men then were not considered as so important to the further- 
ance of their schemes as they now are. So contemptible had 
women become, always with the exception of a few- 
striking instances, which were too overpowering to be disre- 
garded, that the odious crime of witchcraft was fastened on 



252 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

them, and old age, poverty, and decrepitude, or a long life 
spent in harmless simplicity, were singled out as suited 
to the crime. An aged woman under these circumstances, 
instead of recei\Tng compassion and forbearance for her in- 
firmities, was but the more liable to suspicion. The best 
educated men of the times, even the men in holy office, 
were the most intent in persecuting these imhappy females, 
,who were not only maltreated and burnt, but their names 
also were transmitted to posterity a^ infamous ! 

There was no excess to which man had not, at times, 
been prone — no crime of which he had not been convicted 
— no cruelty of which he had not been the pei"petrator — ^no 
meanness of which he had not been guilty ; and yet this 
odious crime of ^vitchcraft, considered at that time so de- 
testable, was thought too horrible and base to be committed 
by him ! — whilst woman, gentle, tender, and considerate — 
she that in her youth had been endowed with filial piety — 
who had been a devoted wife and mother — who was hum- 
ble in her religious creed — ^faithful in her friendships — a 
tender nurse to the sick — compassionate to the distressed — 
cheerful and patient in adversity — frugal, meek, and en- 
during — she from whom aU benevolent works emanated — - 
whose heart was filled with faith, hope, and charity, but 
whose character shone brightest in " the greatest of 
these three, which is charity" — she it was, that was sin-- 
o-led out for that horrible crime called accursed ! 

The slaughter of St. Bartholomews — the politicaJ mur- 
der of Lady Jane Grey, and of Mary, Glueen of Scots, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 253 

the disgraceful, pusillanimous detention of Napoleon at St. 
Helena — amazing as they all appear to us at the present mo- 
ment, sink into nothing, and may be considered as mere hal- 
lucinations of mind, compared to the savage and besotted act 
of burning an aged woman for witchcraft. The long per- 
sistence in the practice will forever be a blot in the charac- 
ter of man ; it showed, more than any other event of the 
times, how completely men's minds were benighted, and 
how vastly inferior they were to their own sex of the present 
day. 

In all the enormities which we have cited, (and could 
we not enumerate a thousand others ?) some strong and 
stormy, or some selfish passion, was the impelling cause. 
In the slaughter of St. Bartholomews it was religions 
frenzy, in which the whole mass of fanatics " ran a muck." 
Cold blood policy, and a blind and slavish obedience to de- 
spotic power, looked on at the savage murders of those two 
innocent women, one of them after a nineteen years impri- 
sonment, without a shadow of guilt having been proved 
upon her. We forbear to trace the motives of those who 
confined Napoleon to the rock ; but all these were active 
stimulants, operating upon a highly excited mass, or on 
some selfish fear, having some kind of warrant for their 
excess. 

These frenzied and besotted scenes, which v/e have thus 
hastily selected, took place, however, in comparatively bar- 
barous times, (if we except the incarceration at St. He- 

22 



254 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

iena, which event is an anomaly in history,) at times, too, 
when the beautiful simplicity of the Christian religion was 
almost obscured. But the burning of aged and defenceless 
females for an imaginary crime, had not even the extremity 
of an apology. At the period to which we allude, and the 
practice endured in its most odious and fearful character for a 
long time, the Christian religion was divested of its gorgeous 
appendages — men had sacrificed their fortunes, their lives, 
and the home of their fathers, to bring it back to its pristine 
form and primitive simphcity. There was nothing to throw 
a veil over the reasoning powers of men ; they suffered no 
excitement, there was no sudden burst of passion, such as 
would overwhelm a multitude at once. The enactors of 
these savage murders — ^for murders they will be considered 
by posterity — were men who professed to reason deeply ^ 
to judge dispassionately, and to act dehberately. They 
were, in their characters, stern, rigid, and peremptory — they 
had not even the shadow of those \ices which would, in 
some measure, account for their blindness. They were 
not lovers of cruel sports ; they held outward shows, 
pomp, and ceremonies, in abomination, and every thing was 
cast aside that could inflame the imagination. They were 
tenacious of a good name — faithful, brave, enduring, poli- 
tic, humane, and devout. Yet, with all these virtues — with 
the full light of the pure gospel — Avith the experience of 
their own persecutions, which had driven them among 
savages in a strange land — with the aid of the awakened 
intellect of the age, and with the entire enjoyment of civil and 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 255 

religious liberty — liberty of speech and liberty of action — 
all tending to encourage inquiry, they went on, slowly, 
deliberately, burning and rendering odious woman after 
woman, sacrificing them to their stupid apprehensions, 
without investigation, or, what is worse, after a trial which 
comported more with the character of idiots than of sage 
and Christian men. 

We have painted this hideous feature in our early history 
in its true colours, nor have we been deterred from ex- 
pressing our sentiment because men have agreed among 
themselves to consign the subject to oblivion. Historians 
have touched the actors of these terrible tragedies with a 
Hght and delicate hand, allowing their motive and conduct 
such ample apology as that we rather view them with pity 
than abhorrence : while the poor, innocent victims of their 
heathenish barbarity, have passed away from the scene like 
the distorted figures in a magic lantern — their age, their 
sex, their humanities, all merged, lost, in that feeling of con- 
tempt and disgust which a things brought to such utter dis- 
grace and infamy, would always excite in our bosoms. 

It is never too late to create pity and sympathy for the 
unfortunate. We are still willing to hear the vindication 
of the poor murdered queen of Scots — we still pay a tribute 
to the unmerited sufferings of Marie Antoinette. The manes 
of these departed victims of jealousy and jacobinism have 
been appeased by the number of eulogists and defenders 
which are still springing up, and will but increase as time 
proceeds. It is just that we should thus feel, and that our 



256 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

sympathies should never be blunted ; but who are those 
that have endeavoured to raise a single tender feeling in our 
bosoms for these poor victims of superstition ? Wliy should 
John Rogers, who was dragged to the stake and burnt by 
the same brutal ignorance, be canonized, and his name, as 
a martyi', be even introduced mto the books of our infancy ? 
Why should he and other worthies of the age — Heaven 
rest their souls — be thought inhumanly dealt with, when 
so many women were murdered m a similar manner, as in- 
nocent of evil as they themselves, and who have never 
received a passing sigh ? 

We have made many mistakes in the course of our rule 
over the female sex, but the greatest error lay in sufFeiing 
old age and helplessness to fall into contempt. Even now, 
with all the lights and peculiar refinements of the age we 
live in, we consider a poor old woman rather as an object of 
disgust and contempt than of pity or reverence, and the 
most stinging epithet a man can have bestowed on him is 
that of " old woman." But^ alas ! how can we be expect- 
ed to pity or reverence the sex in the decline of life when 
we have been so indifferent towards their mental cultivation 
in their youth ! 

In early days — rank, grace, and beauty, (fortune then 
was not the sine qua non that it now is,) a strict observance 
of the rules of etiquette laid down by the fantastic manners 
of the times, constituted the beau ideal of female attractive- 
ness. Their private resources and their occupations were 
a matter of indifference, into which, as we did not take 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



257 



an interest, we did not inquire. It is seldom in the youth of 
life that a love of letters or of fine arts is cultivated for indi- 
vidual, solitary gratification. We are incited to the culture 
by the desire of others to see us excel in them, and by the 
consideration and sympathy we receive when the acquisi- 
tions sit gracefully upon us. Women could have but Httle 
motive to improve their minds, still less to embellish them, 
for independently of the fact that they were not much ho- 
noured by the possession of superior talents, they had the 
difficulty of overcoming the scarcity of elementary books- 
and of encountering the pedantry of teachers. A learned 
woman was certainly to the men a very disagreeable per- 
sonage ; so great was the prejudice, that even in our day we 
still feel a little of the old jealousy which existed in the 
minds of our forefathers, we still call a woman a pedant if 
she deliver an opinion on a matter of belles lettres or science., 
and the epithet blue stocking is not yet obselete am.ongst 
us. 

Having, therefore, no inducement for mental exertion, 
and being fettered down by rigid rules which inculcated the 
notion that they were incapable of high attainments, they 
kept the " even tenor of their way." So far from being a 
matter of astonishment to us that they so rarely show forth 
in intellectual pursuits, we look with admiration at those 
few rare developments of genius which at that time shed 
such a lustre over the female character. It is not our object^ 
however, to extol those few who even in that adverse period 
raised themselves on an equality with the best of our sex,. 
but to consider the whole mass in whom the moral sensa 

22* 



258 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOI>. 

exists which is to be transmitted to posterity — for it must be 
conceded that a few brilliant sparks elicited under peculiar 
circumstances could not enlighten or change the aspect of 
a large body, rendered obtuse and dull by the leaden pres- 
sure of ages. 

Great virtues there undoubtedly were, and noble exam- 
pies of conjugal fidelity and filial piety were shown, but 
even in the loftiest minds the grossest ignorance and super* 
stition prevailed. A woman who could at one time brave 
death to save her husband's honour^ or could encounter 
peiils to rescue a parent or child from suffering or want — 
perils which would appal the stoutest hearts of the other 
sex — was seen in the next moment abridging the comforts 
of a domestic, and exacting of her more than her allotted 
share of labour — either shrinking with teiTor at the wildest 
and most improbable tales of some itinerant mendicant, or 
listening with childish wonder at absurdities which the 
meanest capacities would not now endure for a moment. 

The female sex, prior to our revolution were in the very 
worst state to develope the characteristic traits which render 
them now so estimable. The upper classes were seldom 
consulted in any other affair than what related immediately 
to domestic details;' nay, into such utter insignificance had 
women fallen both at home and abroad, and so little es- 
teemed were their opinions and judgment, that it is on re- 
cord that not more than fifty years ago, sensible, well-in- 
formed women w"ere sent out of the room by their husbands 
when a mere speculation on political affairs was discussed. 
We do not allude to those discussions which involved affairs 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 259 

of great magnitude, but to the common, drowsy, afternoon 
chit-chat, to which the meanest mind might aspire. 

If we want Burke's eloquence to describe the widely ex- 
tended blight which this depression of the female character 
has caused, we also want the sagacity of Franklin to dis- 
cover and apply a remedy. But although eloquence may 
be denied us, yet in our homely strain, having a perfect 
knowledge of the subject, we may make such an appeal as 
shall sufficiently arouse the country to the necessity of re- 
form, and although the energies of a single mind like Frank- 
lin's may be wanting, yet to the spirit which his genius has 
diffused over the whole of these United States, do we sub- 
mit the task of devising a mode which shall raise the cha- 
racter of woman in general, and improve the condition of 
the female poor. 

If, in our anxiety to see this effected, we appear to claim 
a greater consideration for them than what they now enjoy, 
shall we not lie under the charge of officiousness, in asking 
for them more than they desire, more than what we have 
heretofore imagined to be their due ? If we suggest a re- 
medy for some of the evils which, from their long continu- 
ance, they submit to us as a thing of necessity, shall we 
not be overwhelmed at once by the popular cry of " over- 
stepping the modesty of nature ?" Our aim is solely to do 
them justice, and it is the more incumbent on us to do this 
as they do not demand it as a right. It is only in their dis- 
tress that the evil is known, a circumstance which should 
plead more emphatically in their behalf than the loudest 
clamour for redress. 



260 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

But before we proceed, let us point out distinctly what 
the evils are of which they complain — or rather which they 
suffer, for complaint they make none. The first and great- 
est evil, and that which brings all the minor ones in its 
train, is, that at no period has woman been respected in 
proportion to her merits — That in her married life, ihe im- 
provement of her mind has never been suifered to keep 
pace with that of her husband — That he keeps her pro- 
foundly ignorant of his aiFairs, and is alwaj^-s jealous of her 
interference — That when her husband dies insolvent, owing 
to the very limited number of occupations of females, she 
and her children are often thrown into very inferior, and often 
into very degrading situations, by which their own sensibili- 
ties are wounded, and the morals of their children injured. 

These are the complaints which we bring forward in 
their behalf, and which call earnestly for redress. We en- 
treat attention to them on the score of policy alone, keep- 
ing out of view that of common justice and humanity. 
Women do not claim any things which will infringe on the 
rights or privileges of our sex ; they only ask the small 
boon of being able to comprehend so much of their hus- 
bands' affairs as shall enable them to superintend the in- 
vestments which maybe made for them and their chil- 
drens' support. If a man really had that respect for the 
capacity of his wife which it deserves, he would discipline 
her mind to the intricacies and perplexities attending 
domestic finances ; he would enlighten her as to the ways 
and means of disposing of money and property ; he would 
allow her, more fi-equently than the law gives it to her, a 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 261 

voice in the disposal of propert^y ; he would teach her the 
best mode of settling accounts ; he would explain to her 
the mysteries of bank stock, per centage and dividends, 
three very appalling and mcomprehensible terms to her ; 
and above all, he ivould make her fully acquainted with the 
extent of his income, and would consult her as to the best 
mode of disposing of his propey^ty in case of his deaths 
Instead of thus instructing, and thus consulting her, she is 
kept in as much ignorance as if she were a spy or an ene^ 
my. 

In consequence of this miserable, pitiful policy, the mo^ 
ment a man dies, his property becomes the prey of the first 
needy sharper ; for the few cases wherein a man's estate is 
administered honestly, are scarcely worth mentioning. The 
wife and children are ultimately deprived of every thing, 
and are obliged to seek a subsistance as they can. We all 
know what this amounts to — a separation of mother and 
children, a breaking up of all those fine and tender sympa- 
thies which are the charm of life, which are to reward 
the anxieties and cares of the mother, and which constitute 
the hopes and pleasant reminiscences of childhood. Only 
those who have suffered can tell how bitter to a mother's 
heart it is to see her children dependent on strangers, and 
only those who have ^e^n-'driven from the home of their 
childhood can tell what a coldness is felt at the heart when 
they see " feet not theirs treading the nursery floor." 

We have stated that it has been our pleasure to consider 
woman as inferior in capacity to ourselves, and in conse- 
quence to keep her dependent on us, and also to claim the 
right of defending and providing for her. As far as is con- 



2C2 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

sistent with our narrow selfish policy we do so, but in doing 
this we have contracted our notions of protection and sup- 
port to a very small point, and when the subject is humane- 
ly considered and fairly investigated, it will be ascertained 
that our protection amounts to the defence of a property, 
and our support — we blush to name it — our support is 
nothing at all. 

We do not deny that there are cases wherein man does 
v/holly contribute to the maintenance of his wife, -svithout 
her contributing her share either in providing or in saving, 
but these cases are rare, for whether a man be rich or 
whether he be poor, his wife must go through a certain 
portion of labour, which if purchased would amount to 
a definite sum. Nay, in the aggregate, women do more 
work than the men, for as the poor form the greater pro- 
portion of society, and by poor, strictly speaking, we mean 
the labouring classes who have no trades, so the greater pro- 
portion of these poor are supported by women alone. We say 
this loudly, for we have studied the subject well, that it is to 
women that old age and infancy, among the poor, owe their 
subsistence ; ay, and it is to women too, that many a lazy, 
intemperate man owes his daily bread — and to her care and 
untiring affection does he owe it that he is kept from being 
a public charge, and that decent funeral rites are performed 
over his grave. 

Let us first direct our attention to the wealthy, and only 
speak of our own country, the customs and manners of 
which we know. Wherein do the labours of a man exceed 
those of a woman ? We are fearful that a minute inquiry 
will lead to the mortifying conclusion, that in this class too, 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 263 

as well as with the poor, a woman does more than her pro- 
portion. If a man find it fatiguing to regulate the way- 
wardness, the stupidity, or the eccentricities, of his clerks or 
dependents, either in his counting-house or his office — if 
the folly of some, the cupidity of others, and the bad faith 
of many whom he must sometimes trust, be vexatious, and 
bear hard on his temper, is not a woman, too, subject to like 
trials : rather, does she not more than participate in them ? 
for, independently of having to bear with the surplus of her 
husband's irritability on his return home, she too, has her 
domestics and dependents, as well as her children, to con- 
trol ; the former of which being uneducated, and the latter 
helpless and unceasing in their demands on her time and 
her patience, are more difficult to manage and keep in sub- 
jection : and the worst is, that a woman is never reheved 
of the presence and influence of these dependents. Sixteen 
of the twenty-four hours, they are forever in her sight, and 
occupying all her thoughts ; w^hereas, a man has stated 
hours of relief, when he can unbend from care. 

If a woman labour within doors, is it for us to say that 
her avocations are of a more agreeable nature than ours ? 
Even the wife of a wealthy man, if she strictly do her duty 
can never relax in her cares ; constant vigilance is neces- 
sary, and vigilance is labour of the severest kind. Many 
petty things, scarcely amounting to a name, must 
hourly pass in review before her ; all of which are so inti- 
mately connected with the general comfort and economy of 
her household, that if the account were fairly balanced, she 
would be found to have the worst of it. We must take 



2G4 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

into account the many hours of peril she undergoes; su- 
peradded to all, there are her incessant cares for her 
children, and the additional painful circumstance of forever 
submitting to the will of another, however truly she might 
love and honour the being who claims her submission. 

A man in our country is seldom rich when he marries ; 
but if he prosper in the world, however equal in intellect 
his wife may be at the time, he will, ere many years pass, 
very far excel her. The reason of this is obvious : she is 
confined to a continued romid among servants and depend- 
ents of inferior capacities ; unless her husband put books 
in her hand, and bimg her forward, as the term is, she will 
remain worse than stationary. Her amusements are not 
of a kind to elevate her : they are frivolous in detail, and 
deteriorate in the end; whilst her husband passes from one 
point of elevation to another, until he looks down and sees 
that his wife is very far beneath him. We have ten times 
the amount of recreation that a woman has : we take an 
excursion of an hour, of a day, a month, free of care — free 
of woman's care — and dine and sup abroad ; we belong to 
clubs and literary societies ; we go from one populous city 
to another, unembarrassed, seeing strange sights, listening 
to the finest specimens of oratory, the finest strains of elo- 
quence, throwing in our share of praise, learning where to 
extol, and where to condemn; giving our opinion; par- 
taking of the excitement which is constantly afloat. We 
have access to reading-rooms, public libraries, coffee-houses, 
public buildings, courts of justice ; we have all mankind for 
our study and amusement ; in short, there are no bounds to 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 265 

our advancement, for we have been the makers of our own 
laws and rules; and we have managed so adroitly, that the 
small portion of respect and esteem which is allowed to 
woman, arises solely from the self-denial which she prac- 
tises in all those qualifications which would carry her be- 
yond the walls of her own mansion. 

The detail of this never-ending process of housekeeping 
is unknown to most men, even to those who have families. 
Could they but investigate it, how would their respect 
and admiration of the sex increase. They would then 
wonder how it is, that although familiar, necessarily 
familiar, with all the coarse, revolting, and monotonous 
scenes, which the best regulated family exhibits, they yet 
preserve their susceptibility, their refinement, and their 
tastes. Does it never occur to any of us, that a mind capa- 
ble of bearing up against such " fearful odds," is worth cul- 
tivating; does it never occur to us that this woman who has 
no hours of respite, no evening's relaxation — for "a woman's 
work is never done" — is entitled to participate in the ad- 
vancement of mind wliich is daily taking place in that of 
her husband? 

We have spoken of the uncontrolled freedom with which 
men move, either in pursuit of business or pleasure ; the 
very consciousness that they are m.asters of their own 
time eiisures success, and every step they take gives faci- 
lities to the next project they conceive. The mind expands 
as it is exercised ; new powers are developed ; and thus 
the faculties are strengthened to the end of life. The cir- 

23 



266 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

cumscribed action of woman allows of no expansion of 
intellect ; the improvements in civilization, instead of calling 
forth splendid talents, as is suggested, have not elicited any 
extraordinary effort of genius. There certainly are not so 
many learned women — not so many of what are termed 
scholars now, as there were in the last century. If civili- 
zation could increase^ without at the same time increasing 
the wants of men, woman might have some chance of ele- 
vating herself As it is, her talents are held in requisi- 
tion for the additional petty cares which every new disco- 
vei'y brings. She only hears of the improvements in hor- 
ticulture by the number of new vegetables which she pre- 
pares for the table. She has but dim notions of the new 
light which science has elicited, for to such discussions she 
is a stranger. The evening parties begun by men of. edu- 
cation and taste, with the design of pouring intellectual 
knowledge into the general mass, have degenerated into 
luxurious entertainments, the preparation of which requii'es 
the attention and ingenuity of every female in the house. 
Even if we were disposed to admit women to these feasts, 
not of "reason," but of sandwiches and confections, they\ 
have too much prudence to avail themselves of it ; for few 
men are rich enough to indulge themselves and their do- 
mestics too, which would be the case but for the vigilance 
of the mistress. 

In France and Germany these evening meetings are the 
nurseries of the arts and sciences. There men try their 
strength, and gather together the hints and conjectures 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 267 

which are thrown out, and which, but for this collision of 
intellect, would be forever lost to science and literature, and 
it is thei'e that women are welcome guests and critics. 
Men there want no other gratification than what results 
from this interchange of mind. If women, in our country, 
are to be excluded when men congregate at each other's 
houses, in Heaven's name do not let us increase their cares 
by inventing new modes for the absorption of their time — 
let us at least not couple pickled oysters, ham, ice-creams, 
coffee, and whiskey punch, with science and literature. 
Let us save our wives from the fatigue of preparing deli- 
cacies, of which they are not to partake. 

It is a shame to urge the fact that women delight in 
arranging these entertainments. We ought to regret that 
minds, even more susceptible than our own, are brought to 
think those trifles a pleasure, which but the longer retard 
their improvement. God did not intend that the female 
mind should never aspire to higher things than to dress 
chicken salad, and to compound whiskey punch. We ac- 
knowledge it to be true, that women try to outvie each other 
in the variety and richness of these repasts ; but we know, 
at the same time, that we can train a mind to be eager 
after any inferior gratification, and to be satisfied with very 
sHght applause. But is it right in us to allow their talents 
to rmi to waste in pursuits so detrimental to the advance- 
ment of intellect ? Ought a woman to be satisfied merely 
that she can excel her neighbour in the paltry strife of 
dressing a dinner ? Ought it to be a matter of pride in a 



268 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

well educated woman, that she can make a limited income 
equal in outward show to one of twice the amount 1 

It is strictly proper that a woman should economize, and 
that she should know how to dress a dinner, and how to 
preside at one, too ; but to make it a ruling, over^vhelming-, 
exclusive pursuit, is degrading. A woman cannot prepare 
one of these evening parties, or a large, expensive dinner, 
without ample funds ; if she undertake it, it must be at 
the expense of something — dignity, refinement. Let any 
one, who doubts tliis, place himself near the door the day 
after one of these entertainments. If he were not told that 
the linen, cut glass, china, silver, chairs, and cooking uten- 
sils, were the property of shop-keepers and neighbours, and 
were in the ^,ct of being returned, he would fancy that the 
family were absconding and cheating some honest creditor, 
so softly and cautiously do the servants creep out of the 
house with the hidden articles. It is disgraceful in us to 
encourage such things, but the degi'adation rests with the 
woman. It is she who is debased by all this small finessing 
and pretence. But let us quit tliis disgusting disclosure. 

The revolution opened the way greatly to the advantage 
of the female sex : they are not aware how much they are 
indebted to that event. If the dignity of man was secured 
by the emancipation, women also were elevated : the moral 
condition of the female sex has gone on improving ever 
since that period, but no where so perceptibly as in the 
state of Massachusetts. It forever establishes the fact 
that, however adverse ihe times, if women were allowed the 
free exercise of their powers, they would be able to meet any 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 269 

emergency. In those times which " tried men's souls," it 
might be discovered that women, likewise, had souls to be 
tried. 

To work out the great scheme of freedom, almost the 
whole male population took an active part ; much, there- 
fore, of domestic policy devolved oil women, and it required 
the exercise of all their faculties to meet the oddly con- 
trasted events which were daily occurring. For the first time 
in their lives they felt themselves called upon to act in other 
matters than the common duties of housekeeping ; and 
their talents were thus first made manifest. In the dif- 
ferent memoirs of the revolution, we find numberless proofs on 
record of their heroism, sagacity, prudence, and industry. 
Their patient endurance of fatigue and hardships ; their 
promptness in devising means to renovate their slender 
resources ; their cheerful submission to the many painful 
changes which necessarily took place ; the noble example 
they frequently set to the faint of heart ; their ingenuity in 
averting or overcoming the difficulties incident to such a 
momentous struggle ; and the sound judgment they dis- 
played when any crisis overtook them, in the absence of 
their husbands, showed us at once how much we had always 
underrated them. Besides this, there are likewise on record 
various instances of their quickness at repartee, and their 
ingenious logic, when, in any critical moment, they were 
put upon their defence ; for let it forever be borne in mind, 
that if woman was denied many of the privileges of men, 
she was never denied a participation in their punishments, 

23* 



270 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

either for her religion or her political creed. The American 
women were almost all " rebels ;" and if they were never 
hanged, or tarred and feathered, for their contmnacy, it was 
not because of the tenderness of their judges, but that they 
had the wit to elude search or suspicion. 

And now that this mighty event has opened the door 
of freedom to the whole world, ought not the female sex to 
continue to elevate their moral character? They have 
every thing to facilitate their improvement : we are alluding 
now to the upper classes of women, those who have wealth ; 
the poor, God help them, have but little for which to thank 
the revolution ; in fact, independence has acted injuriously 
on their interests. If a poor woman, before that period, was 
but little better than a slave, when her master was not a 
freeman, still the eye of that master protected her from 
actual suffering. There was always some great house, 
where crumbs of comfort were dispensed. But the indepen- 
dence of spirit which fell on the rich and the poor man's 
wife, however it may have benefited her, and however it 
may have improved her character, and sharpened her inge- 
nuity, lias not been of the least advantage to her. when 
death has deprived her of her husband. In this land of 
hberty and plenty, the widow's means of subsistence are as 
precarious as in Europe. TMiy is it that such utter poverty 
overtakes the widow of a man who dies poor or insolvent 1 
Why is it that his v,ife and chHclren are immediately 
obliged to separate, and scatter themselves among stran- 
gers? It is because there are sofeiv occupations in which 
ivomen can earn a livelihood. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 271 

There are, in fact, but few ways in which " those who 
have seen better days" can be suitably engaged. Teach- 
ing a school, keeping a boarding-house, retail shop-keeing, 
' raising silk-worms, tailoring, fine needle-work, are some of 
the employments suited particularly to women ; but men 
have usurped them all excepting the latter, needle-work, 
which branch of industry is now taken from them by the 
rich of their own sex. Every mistress of a family, with the 
assistance of her daughters and maids, not only does her 
own plain and ornamental needle-work, vrliich, in the cases 
of the rich, is rather pitiful than meritorious ; but they leave 
still less for indigent females to do, by making a thousand 
of those useless missionary articles, which in the true spirit 
of charit}^, ought not only to be made by the poor women 
above alluded to, but the sales of which ought to be exclu- 
sively for their benefit. 

This shows how little dependence can be placed on the 
opinions of those who do not immediately feel the pressure 
of a calamity. There are many political economists at this 
moment, who reason on the evils under which poor women 
are now suffering, as if they bore a resemblance to an over- 
stocked market of merchandise. They say that such a state 
of depression must always exist where the labourers are in 
greater numbers than are wanted for the uses of the com- 
munity. . This is true, with regard to male labourers ; but 
what has it to do Avith women ? They have not rained from 
The clouds, like frogs, nor sprung up, as men of old, from 
dragons' teeth, in one night ; they have not been thrown on 
our shores, in ship loads, from other countries ; they are 
here, born here, increasing in numbers from day to day, in 



272 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

the same proportion with ourselves. There must be some 
mismanagement on their part, or on ours, or they would 
not thus gradually have arrived at the melancholy point 
where they now are. If a market is overstocked with 
goods, the evil will soon cure itself. If men will come to 
this country faster than we can create professorships for 
colleges, or project roads and canals, they must work 
at inferior employments for low wages, or go home again ; 
but we cannot send away or kill off a thousand or tw^o of 
poor widows : they die by inches, of themselves, quite fast 
enough to sting the conscience of a thinking man*. 

That some means must be devised for the relief of poor 
women is too apparent ; but there is no possible w^ay by 
which any permanent advantage can accrue, but in multi- 
ph-ing their occupations. Let us see what can be done, 
in the first place, for poor gentlewomen ; those who have 
been well educated, and who would be willing to turn their 
talents to account. 

The first mode which presents itself is retail shopleep- 
ino-; in this branch of business women would particularly 
excel, if they were early taught to keep accoimts. In 
Philadelpiiia the practice of employing young girls behind 
the counter is very common, but it is by no means common 
to see w^omen exclusively at the head of these establish- 
ments. Whenever w^omen have been properly " set up"' 
in the business, they have never been burdensome to their 
friends ; but that they should succeed, they must commence 
without a debt. How is this to be done 1 Very few^ are 
able still fewer are willing, to give or lend a sufficient sum to 
advance the interests of a poor female relation ; and we do 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 273 

not know a single instance, in our country at least, where 
a provision has been made for so laudable a purpose. We 
have heard that an association does exist, somewhere, for 
the purpose of lending small sums to set poor women up 
in some way of living ; but the plan is so circumscribed in 
its nature as not to benefit them. If a few liberal, noble- 
minded men would each leave, at their demise, a suitable 
sum for such a humane purpose — and heaven grant that, 
on reading these pages, they may so bequeath a part of 
their large estates^then truly would their memory be che- 
rished on earth, and they would be welcomed by their 
heavenly Father ; for they would make the hearts of the 
widow and the fatherless to sing for joy. 

A small. smici would purchase stock, pay house rent, and 
hire an assistant for one year. This sum, whatever it 
might be, should, never be reclaimed. A fund to the ex- 
tent of two hundred thousand dollars would yield a suffi- 
cient interest to set up, as the phrase is, five widows with 
families every year ; and this, for that one branch of indus- 
try, would be as many as would apply in each city. This 
is not the place to enter into the detail of such an operation* 
but it could be easily put into execution. 

The second plan of relief that we should propose would 
be to create a fund for the support of scholarships for wo- 
men, after the manner of those for the other sex. Not for 
the intention of teaching girls Latin and Greek, although 
that would do them no harm, but for the respectable main- 
tenance of a well educated woman, who would give 



274 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

gratuitous instruction to young girls, the daughters of 
widows who have seen brighter days, 

A man of education, whether he have a family to sup- 
port or not, is chosen as a professor in some college or as a 
teacher in some grammar school. For this he gets from 
one to three thousand dollars a year. Why may not a wo- 
man, if she can be well qualified, and of that there is now no 
doubt, aspire to the like remuneration ? It is astonishing, 
but it is too true, whatever a woman does she must project 
herself. Who ever thinks of establishing a woman in a 
school by any gathered funds ? or in a boarding house, or 
in any business whatever, let her necessities be ever so 
great ? But let a man be in want, and a college is raised, a 
scholarship is at hand, a missionary's post is assigned him, 
a clerk's, recorder's, or insurance office is ready for him ; 
in short, there are investments to meet eyery emergency ; 
even for the ministry there is a fund for the education of 
young men gratis ; and in certain places, where no regu- 
lar appropriation is made, kind-hearted women themselves 
raise a fund for the purpose. These young men would 
never think of assisting women. Nothing could be better 
devised than to raise a few hundred thousand dollars for 
the purpose of endowing a number of scholarships for wo- 
men. This would enlarge their sphere of usefulness, and 
elevate their moral character. 

Let us be understood distinctly when we speak of the 
limited sphere of women and of the inequality of rights 
between the sexes. We have not the most remote wish 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 275 

that they should ever apjiear in public, either to harangue 
or to lecture, either to ollain place or office of any kind, or 
to learn trades, or appear in occupations imsuited to the 
delicacy of their sex. We have not half so keen a sense 
of what is right and proper for them to do, as they have 
themselves. We do not think that there is an American 
woman, prevalent as the levelling principle is, who 
would accept an office of any kind, which would expose 
her to mix altogether with men, nor would the wealth of 
the Indies tempt her to deliver an oration in public. The 
utmost extent of theii' aspirings has been, hitherto, to con 
duct the concerns of some charitable institution, for which 
they are eminently qualified. Considering how well they 
manage these public charities, where no fraud or pecula- 
tion was ever known to exist, we wonder that they are not 
sometimes tempted to insinuate themselves into trusts, 
where their talents and services will produce far more be- 
neficial results than are often seen. 

Women have great delicacy and sensitiveness on the score 
of money which is intrusted to their care. They never indulge 
themselves at the expense of intrusted funds. What set of men 
ever met, particularly at anniversaries, without taking from 
th€ charitable, or other public funds intrusted to their care, a 
sum sufficient to pay for a luxurious dinner, or at least for* 
high-priced wines 1 Do women ever appropriate any of 
the money intrusted to their guardianship, in so fraudulent 
a way as this 1 Never. We leave them therefore to pre- 
side over such charities as the Bible societies, the orphans' 
and widows' asylum, the infant schools, and above all, over 



276 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

thai thrice blessed institution, worth all the charities in the 
world, the Sunday schools ! 

We could point out many other branches of business 
which would particularly suit well educated women, but 
we must wait to see whether what we have already sug- 
gested, be favourably received ; meantime let us hasten to 
speak of the poorer and humbler order of femaJei, who, in- 
asmuch as they are of infinitely greater numbers, are more 
entitled to our consideration. The widow of a labouring 
man, is even in a worse situation than those we have just 
described ; a man who eeims his bread firom day to day by 
hard labour, has nothing to leave his family at his death. 
He generally, however, dies out of debt, and his wife and 
children, accustomed to hard labour, could very readily pass 
from one laborious occupation to another, if any such there 
were, which would be the means of giving them bread. 
But if a gentlewoman cannot subsist on the pittance which 
she daily gets for fine needle work, how is it with a poor 
woman who takes in the coarse work of govemnlfent sol- 
diers, which she must either do or starve. Is a shilling a 
day enough to maintain her family, when eight shillings in 
addition to it, during the husband's life time, but barely al- 
lowed them the common necessaries of life ? In what way 
are they to gain a livelihood when so many sources have 
been cut off from them ? They can no longer maintain their 
families by spinning, or weaving, or knitting, or carding, or 
sewing, or tailoring. If women could be advanteigeously em- 
ployed within doors, or in shops, we would never see them 
hawking fruit, fish, and vegetables, either in the streets or 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 277 

in market. They would in almost every case prefer to re- 
main in situations, where they could superintend the wel- 
fare of their children. There are in fact so few occupations 
compared to their numbers, that every thing is overdone. 
Milliners, mantuamakers, upholsterers, book, shoe, and 
hat binding, manufactories, clothing shops, are all over- 
run with applicants. Men must yield — must give way 
to them in some particulars, or the evil will cure itself in a 
way to be deplored. 

No man should be allowed employment behind the coun- 
ter in any retail shop whatever, let the articles for sale be 
what the/ may. There is an abundance of more suitable 
avocations for them; still less should they ever sew, except- 
ing in sail making and other equally hard needle work. 
It ought to be quite as disgraceful and as much out 
of character for a man to sew as for a woman to turn 
hostler or stage-driver. Men have been allowed to re- 
tain this most profitable feminine trade, because that 
branch of it called measuring, is not considered as suited 
to the delicacy of a woman. This certainly would 
be an objection, were it not that a man could be em- 
ployed in this part exclusively, leaving the rest in the hands 
to which it naturally belongs. It is melancholy to see the 
situation into which this monopoly throws those poor wo- 
men who are not in robust health, and who depend on their 
needle for subsistance. Poor creatures, for what a pittance 
do they work for these men, and how meekly do they sub- 
mit to the disproportion which exists between the price 

24 



278 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 

which they receive, and that which the tailors get from 
their customers for this very work. 

Nor should any rnan-servant, excepting as a coachman or 
a footman, be allowed within the doors of a private dwell- 
ing. Male waiters should be only tolerated in taverns, hotels, 
and large boarding houses. Were this practice g-eneral in 
genteel families, how many doors u-ould be open for the 
daughters of the poor. But on this theme we must also 
cease to dwell. 

Let us take one more ^iew of the first great mistake 
which men make with regard to women — that of, keeping 
them in ignorance \yiih regard to the extent of their income. 
What can be more absurd and stupid ? If a woman knew 
the exact extent of her husband's means, in nine cases out 
of ten, she would never go beyond them. The female sex 
have a high sense of justice, and that of itself, independent- 
ly of tenderness for their husband and children, would keep 
them from spending what is not their own. If we woidd 
only trust our wives as we do our partners in business, they 
would be perfectly competent to take charge of our estates 
after oiu' death, and the family could be kept together to the 
great preservation of morals and indi\'idual happiness. But 
this is seldom the case, excepting among the poor classes. 
There the scantiness of their means prevents any accumu- 
lation, and, as the woman does her share, and generally 
more than her share, in providing the means of subsistence, 
the extent of their funds is known to her — and to the eternal 
credit of the poor be it said, that where one man dies 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 279 

unable to pay his debts, there are twenty in a sphere far 
above him, who die insolvent. 

We often hear of mdows, who, if prosperous pay their 
husband's debts — particularly those incurred during his last 
illness ! Are there many men who would, when their for- 
tunes improved after a failure, have the magnanimity to re- 
pay what they owe to their creditors 1 And yet there is 
greater obKgation on their part to perform this act of jus- 
tice, than there is on that of a widow to pay her hus- 
band's debts. Although " women are not in their best for< 
tunes strong," yet they are strong in honesty, strong in 
their faith, strong in their charities. How well this is 
known, if not acknowledged by us, is inferred from the ex- 
tensive use we make of them in every religious project 
which it suits us to set on foot. 

It is unworthy of our pen, in tliis age of true piety, to 
speak of the influence which the clergy possess over the 
female mind — nor is there a woman who would not redden 
with indignation at being thought manoeiivered or flattered 
into the performance of those charitable acts by which the 
church is so much benefited. If the heavenly principle 
were not inherent in their bosoms, there would be something 
more wanting than flattery to stimulate them to those un- 
remitting acts of charity, such as working for missions, 
for church debts, and other pious objects. We only refer 
to it thus broadly, to show the policy of treating them with 
the respect and deference which the clergy show them. 



280 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

We spoke of raising funds for a female scholarship. Why 
could not women work for such a purpose as well for them-, 
selves as for men, which they are in the daily habit of 
doing. In a late address of Bishop White, he speaks of 
a certain gentleman as being '' the second beneficiary fur- 
nished by the scholarship instituted by some ladies of Phi- 
ladelpliia." 

Men need not fear that they will be underrated, or that 
they will sink into insignificance, if women rise in the scale- 
In no part of the world is a father more respected, or a 
man more elevated than in France : and yet, there it is that 
women transact business and have the entire management 
of domestic aflfairs, and there it is that filial love is the most 
strongl}'- shown. This is proverbially true, and it arises 
from the undisturbed activity of women. A woman would 
naturally teach a child to respect those by whom she is her- 
self respected. Do we not see how tliis pohcy operates 
in oui' favom* in Ne^v England, where women are better 
educated, and where greater deference is paid them than 
in any of the other states 1 Have men degenerated there, 
or have their rights been usurped? Because women there 
•WTite well on abstruse metaphysical subjects, and excel in 
the higher and the lighter departments of literature as well 
as in the arts of engraving and painting, have the interests 
of their families been neglected ? No where on the globe 
are there better wives and mothers, better housekeepers 
and better disciplinarians than in Nev/ England. It is 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 281 

truly the world for women, and yet their influence does not 
predominate to the exclusion of a single right of the othei 
sex. Look at the seamen, the soldiers, the statesmen, the 
orators, the lawyers, the artists, the teachers, the divines,, 
which New England, ever since the revolution, has poured 
out over the whole United States. Every man, therefore, 
in New England must rejoice at each new instance of ta- 
lent in his countrywomen, as it is the assurance of addi- 
tional consequence to himself. 

The higher we exalt the nature of woman — the better 
we instruct her — the less likely she is to encroach. The 
more a woman is enlightened, the more clearly does she see 
the line which nature has drawn between herself and us, 
and the more zealous she is to keep that line as distinct as 
possible. Look at the simplicity^ the purity, and quietness 
of the lives of those females who have been blessed with a 
good education and nurture. Have they not kept within their 
own sphere? We ^vill mention the names of some of the most 
distinguished women in England, not choosing to bring 
those of our country forward — the names of Carter, Ha- 
milton, Aikin, Barbauld, More, Baillie, Austin, Mitford, 
Grant, Herschel, Fry, Edgeworth — are well known to 
fame. They have contributed to enlighted, instruct, and 
amuse, m equal proportion with the other sex, and yet how 
modestly they have borne their honours ! We do not hear 
of a single transgression, nor a single attempt to congre- 
gate, to stir up the disaffected, to infuse a spirit of insubor- 
dination, or to clamour for the rights of woman — or what 
would be still harder for the men to bear, we never hear of 

24* 



282 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

their having meddled with that peculiar province of the 
other sex — politics. 

We perceive, therefore, that there can be no danger in 
meliorating the condition of the upper and lower classes of 
woman ; on the contrary, we shall be great gainers in the 
end, for they will leave us less to do. The poorer descrip- 
tion want immediate relief, and we trust that some benevo- 
lent designs will be now set on foot, which will ultimately 
be of permanent benefit. Let us, therefore, assist in the 
work, by not exacting loo much of them. Let us not ap- 
peal to their charities for ourselves, when their own sex is 
suffering. Let us lea^ve them to their own exertions ; and 
when their pressures and disabilities are removed, they will 
want no assistance from us. If no ridicule (which in a fe- 
male breast is the greatest disability and pressure) is at- 
tached to the schemes, which this and similar efforts may 
suggest to them, we shall soon hear — in the New Eng- 
land states, at least — of their raising, by. their own indus- 
try, sufficient fimds for endowing female scholarships — of 
their giving liberal prices for needle work — of their letting 
the young gentlemen who are destined for missionaries 
work for themselves — of their finding it out of their pro- 
vince to get up fairs, and to become public saleswomen — 
of their turning all the male waiters out of doors, and of 
their not encouraging a man behind the counter in a 
retail shop. They will be strenuous in abolishing the 
monopoly of tailors, while poor women, for whom 
our sympathies have been most excited, under the new 
order of things, which so many new sources of employ- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 283 

ment will open, \vill rise gradually to the scale of com- 
petency. " Laisses nous faire" should be the motto of 
every woman. Heaven bless her and endow her with a 
double portion of fortitude, until her own energies have es- 
tablished her on a perfect equality with the other sex. We 
know that she will bear the advancement with dignity and 
humility. 

Wlien the physical and moral condition of -woman shall> 
in reality, be improved, then will that millennium, of which 
the enthusiast has so long dreamed, be reahzed. We are 
persuaded that all the misery in this luorld, which is depen- 
dent on vice^ arises from the limited sphere of action in 
which woman is compelled to move. 



284 OUR NEIGHB0URHO0I> 



LETTERXXXIV. 

March 4. — I regret, even more than you do, the loss of 
my last packet, for it contained the details of two eventful 
months ; and the misfortune is, that I shall have but little 
time to write for six weeks to come. I cannot now tell 
you the particulars of all that occm'red, but I will try to 
recollect the principal events, that you may imderstand 
how we are getting on. 

You say that the last letter you received (accompanied 
by the lecture on women) left off with the mention of a 
sprained wrist. It prevented me from writing for a fort- 
night, and in that time I led the idlest life imaginable. I 
might say that I lived at Dr. Bentley's, for they would not 
allow me to leave them. I did not regret il, I assure you, 
for the weather was stormy and cold. Mr. North took up 
his abode with us likewise, and a happier party, nor one 
better suited to each other, never met under the same roof 
I must proceed to tell, in short hand, what you have so un- 
fortunately lost, trusting that the packet will yet reach you. 

The most important event to. me is, that I am to call 
Julia mine within a month, and Mr. North is to be married 
at the same time. It is provoking that you have lost the 
account I gave of the daily progress I made in Julia's affec- 
tions — ^now, at the end of two months, you hear in the 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 285 

quietest way imaginable that all my doubts and fears are at 
an end, and that I am to be married ! Christmas revels — 
shooting parties — lectures — visitings — Abel Ross's mar- 
riage with Sam's pretty sister, Peggy — the presents to the 
bride — the death of old Mr. Saxeweld, who avowed him- 
self Abel's father, and consequently left him his farm and 
furniture — Susan Haywood's engagement with Mr. Grant 
— a new neighbour by the name of Bingley, who has pur- 
chased an estate next to the Haywoods — all the detail of 
these interesting events you have lost for the present, but 
you will hear them over and over again in the autumn, in 
case the lost packet does not make its appearance. 

I am glad that I did not send by the same vessel a large 
packet, containing several manuscripts. One is an article 
on vegetable physiology by Mr. Parr — another on horticul- 
ture by Dr. Bentley — and a third on modern science by 
Mr. Elmer. These all go to you in the next sliip. I have 
a number of other things to send you, as soon as Miss Be- 
verly has copied them. For instance, the memoirs of Mr. 
Parr and of the Little couple. It would have been a gre9.t 
loss had these all shared the fate of the last packet. 

I am working very hard to have every thing in readiness 
for my marriage. Julia enters deUghtfully into all my Httle 
plans, and expresses as much interest in your coming to 
this country, as if she knew you all personally. She had 
a letter from her grandmother, and a curious one it was. 
The old lady does not say one word about her brother, nor 
does she allude to business of any kind, excepting to tell 
Julia, that " the bottles containing gold pieces had bet- 



286 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



ter be taken from the cellar, and deposited in the Wicklowe 
bank, lest some one might find out the treasure ! !" This 
shoAvs either the weakness of old age, or a derangement 
of intellect ; for there can be no doubt that she intended to 
keep the thing a secret by her silence, in the first place, 
and then bj desiring that Dinah should remain in the 
house. Dinah wants to return home, but Juha is so scru- 
pulous, that I wish not to hurt her tender conscience by in- 
sisting on it. Mrs. Bell luckily gives herself no concern 
about her granddaughter, and only in a postscript refers to 
her marriage. She says that she leaves all that matter to 
her friends here, particularlj^ to Mr. Parr. The letter itself 
is a sort of ranng about this unknown Ellen Beverly, and 
an abuse of Hilary Hix. What can she mean ? How 
came she to know him 1 Pray put us at rest, if you know 
any thing of this mystery ; for Julia will not hsten to our 
wash of ha\ing the box opened : even Mr. Parr thinks we 
had better wait for Mrs. Bell's permission. I am glad that 
you went to London to see the old lady — Julia was very 
errateful to vou for it. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 287 



LETTER XXXV. 

I BEGAN to make a hot-bed this morning, with the as- 
sistance of Stephen and Andrew Haywood, who generally 
are at the top and bottom of every thing I do. Dr. Bent- 
ley came over, too, to see how we were proceeding ; but 
he objected to one part of the plan, which was, the pack- 
ing down of the manure. They were all as much interested 
in the wdl doing of the hot-bed as I could desire, for I can 
assure you that I begin to have the same feelings, as it 
respects sympathy, as the Americans have themselves. 
Each person present suggested something new ; and at 
length the packing dovm of the manure commenced. Here 
a diversity of opinion arose. Dr. Bentley and Mr. Parr 
think that the manure should only be pressed dowm lightly, 
that fermentation might go on properly. Andrew and Mr. 
Thorn insisted that the manure cannot be trodden down 
too hard — that fermentation would go on as well in this 
mode as the other, but that this would have the advantage, 
inasmuch as that the heat would ascend more slowly and 
equally. I really inclined to the latter opinion ; so Peter 
and Dennis pounded and trod down the manure with great 
strength and energy. When it was sufficiently pressed, 
we covered it with about five inches of rich com- 
post, well sifted, notwithstanding that some European 



288 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

gardeners think it ought to be coarse. But the manure 
and the mould should not slope in exact proportion to the 
slant of the frame of the hot-bed, because the plants in the 
upper part of the hot-bed would never be so moist as those in 
the lower part. We put on the glasses, and then left the 
mpuld to be operated upon by ^h^ heat and gases which v/e 
expected would be disengaged in the course of a few days. 
We always make allowances for the settling of the manure 
and mould, by raising the composition to within four inches 
of the glasses. It settles, generally, about four inches, if 
well packed down, but much more if the manure is put in 
in the common way. Dr. Bentley and Mr. Parr like Mr. 
Thorn's reasoning on the subject, and, as their hot-beds are 
made, they are looking anxiously for the result of this close 
packing. Andrew reminded the Doctor that his hot-bed 
did not do well the last spring, as one half was burnt up ; 
which, at the time, was attributed to the great slant of the 
mould, thus drying out the upper pah. 

As the day was very bright and warm, for the season, I 
thought it would be as well to manure and fork the aspara- 
gus beds. Every thing that can be done now is an advan- 
tage, since the spring sometimes comes upon us so suddenly, 
as to oblige us to use great despatch. The frost has en- 
tirely disappeared ; and I intend to-morrow to have a piece 
of ground man*Qred and ploughed, for early potatoes. Ste- 
phen came over at noon, to dine with me, and to examine 
the potatoes which were buried in the deep pits. We 
opened one small pit, and found the potatoes in an excellent 
condition, not one of them having sprouted or rotted. The 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 289 

pit was six feet deep, four feet wide, and six feet long. I 
agree to the opinion lately promulgated in France, that 
nothing can vegetate below a certain point ; for the eyes 
of all those potatoes, which were three feet below the sur- 
face, never even swelled, or showed any signs of vegeta* 
tion ; whereas, the eyes of all those near the top were 
swelling, although no sprouting had taken place. 

The frost disappeared so gradually, that the roads are 
now as good as they are in May — a very unusual thing in 
this country, where the sudden .breaking up of the cold 
weather renders the roads almost impassable in the spring. 
I have been ploughing all day, preparing for early potatoes. 
The ground was well ploughed in the fall, and left rough, 
that the frost might mellow the clods, which it did. Peter 
says he never saw the soil turn up better. In fact, it cannot 
be too often repeated, that when ground is ploughed in 
the autumn, and left all winter to the action of the frost, it 
is of as much benefit to vegetation as a coat of manure. 
Besides this advantage, it is the means of destroying vast 
numbers of the larvae of insects ; for those which were at the 
bottom, below the frost, are thus turned up to the top, where 
they are frozen to death. I intend to speak fully on insects, 
as soon as I can collect the circulars and papers, which 
have of late been written on the subject. 

I relieved the grape-vines of some of the earth with which 
they were covered, so as to prepare them gradually for 
their entire opening. They are very much injured when 
too suddenly exposed in the spring, as there are often 
severe frosts, and very cutting winds. If the winters here 

25 



290 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

were not so variable, there would be no necessity of covei*' 
ing grape-vines at all, as it is not the severity of the cold 
which destroys the vine, but the changes from heat to cold, 
and from dry to wet weather. 

As all the tools were put in order during the winter, we 
had nothing to do but to go to work, and that we do right 
heartily. Peter has arranged work enough for himself and 
Sam, for one month at least ; as to Dennis, he relies upon 
the spade for his employment, not kno^vdng how to plough, 
or make fences. • 

As I mean to throw all my grounds into orchards, I shall 
not have any division fences : in fact, I have been taking 
up the whole of the fence which divided the fields in the 
front of my farm, and I have only left one line, in the mid- 
dle. A farm, chiefly occupied by orchards and ^ineyards, 
should have no division fences, and for several reasons. The 
head-lands are mere nurseries for weeds, and insects of the 
Coleoptera tribe, and besides, it is mere waste ; for although 
in one direction we may plough within three feet of the 
fence, on each side, yet we cannot raise grain or vegeta- 
bles there, for it must serve as a walk ; and we cannot cul- 
tivate it to within ten or twelve feet in another direction, 
as it must always serve as a head-land, for the turning of 
the plough-horses. I have made the line fence, as it is 
called here, or boundary fence, of cedar posts and rails. The 
cost is a little more at first, but I was determined upon 
doing every thing well at the begimiing. 

It is a very curious circumstance, that decomposition is 
confined to a very few inches below the surface. As far as 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 291 

the soil is acted upon by ascending gases, and by atmos- 
pheric agents, such as heat, cold, and moisture, so far the 
post decays. It camiot be too often repeated, that charring o>s^^^ 
burning the ends of the posts, will prevent the rot from 
taking place, provided the loood has been well seasoned. 
Peter brought me a post, which Mr. Thorn says had been 
in the ground for fifty years. It was of cedar, about six 
inches thick at the bottom ; but the rot had reduced the 
part which it attacked to four. I am going to take up fifty 
of them to-morrow, and have them dressed down to a 
square of four inches, thus making posts for the extension 
of my grape-trellis. 

Mr. North has determined upon settling in Moreland : he 
intends to build on the edge of the village, in a rather 
pretty place ; but it is in the neighbourhood of Mr. Pell 
and Miss Patty Streamer, both very disagreeable persons, 
in my opinion — but no better place could be purchased — so 
they made the best of it. Miss Sidney and Julia are busily 
employed in drawing plans for the house, and in preparing 
for their new duties. I have already adied such articles of 
furniture to my house, as the ladies have advised ; and as 
every thing is to be on an economical plan, there will be no 
delay. The young ladies of Oak Valley, Mrs. and Misses 
Wells, Mrs. Parr, and aunt Martha, Miss Devereux, and 
even Mrs. Murray, have all been busily employed in assist- 
ing Miss Sidney, Julia, and Miss Haywood, who are all to 
change their name at the same time. 

Mr. Grant was here yesterday, with the model of a pump, ' 
invented by a gentleman, a fiiend of his, in Philadelphia ; 



292 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

which, he thinks, on account of its simplicity, will be an 
improvement. Instead of having the boxes, as in the com- 
mon pump, to open and shut by leather valves, he has in- 
troduced an ivory ball over each box. These balls are 
accurately turned ; and when the upper box is raised, by 
means of the handle, as is usual, the ivory ball between the 
two boxes is raised from the socket, and the water ascends. 
The top of each box is dished, or hollowed out in the form 
of a socket, so as to receive the ball, which fills up the 
socket completely. I think this the most simple and 
ingenious of all the hydraulic machines that I have seen, 
and less liable to get out of order. Do you think, by my 
description of it, that you can get one made 1 Set Hilary 
Hix at work ; he will make a pump immediately, as he is 
both turner and blacksmith. 

March 6th.^^I sowed radish, lettuce, cabbage, and broc- 
coH seeds in the hot-bed this morning, finding the mould in 
a good state, with sufficient warmth. The heat is just as 
it should be, and i feel assured that it is better to pound 
the manure down well. We shall see which mode is best, 
as Dr. Bentley pressed his down but lightly. He sowed 
his seeds about a week ago, and they are coming up finely; 
but the second week is the trial. 

I am planting early potatoes. Mercers. I have about 
half an acre planted already, and I expect to put in about 
as much more. I plant them in hills, dropping a whole 
potatoe in a hill, and then throwing a small spadeful of 
manure on each potato, over which I draw the earth with 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 293 

a hoe. Andrew Haywood, who is my oracle on such occa- 
sions, says that nine times out of ten it is best to plant a 
whole potato ; that in a wet season it may be divided 
into several sets, but in seasons of drought it is better 
that the plant should have a whole bulb atttached to the 
roots, as greater nourishment and moisture is thus insured 
to it. 



25* 



294 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD.. 



LETTER XXXVI. 

^ We have been engaged in a very disagreeable business 
lo-day — destroying rats. Revolting and painful as it was, 
I found myself under the necessity of poisoning them ^vith 
arsenic ! Penelope is not so neat a woman as Dinah : she 
allows the crumbs of bread and sprinklings of flour to lie 
about, which draw the rats to the house : and they have 
estabhshed themselves in such numbers, that there is no 
such thing as sleeping, for their noise. Last evening a 
bag. containing seven pounds of crackers, was laid on a 
pantry-shelf: this morning there was not a single one 
left ! The rats had gnawed a hole in the bag ; and, by 
what process I know not, they completely emptied it. Peter 
says he heard them, all night, rolling sometliing over his 
head, in the ceiling. I suppose that now and then they 
let the crackers drop from their mouths. 

We are so accustomed to the depredations of these dis- 
gusting animals, that we look upon the e\-il as a thing of 
course, and take no steps to prevent them. We were speak- 
ing on the subject, the other evening, at Mr. Haj«v^ood's. 
He says that the mischief that rats and mice do to the 
farmers is incalculable. He is, as I before observed, a very 
sensible man, and a close reasoner. He observed, that the 
actual loss to the farmers alone, by the ravages of the rats 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 295 

and mice, would amount to a smn sufficient to pay all their 
taxes ! ! I can easily credit this assertion ; for in the last 
month I had a new saddle gnawed to pieces, to get at the 
oil which had accidentally been spilled on it ; a ham half 
eaten ; a door gnawed at the bottom, and two Florence 
flasks, or betties, as they are called, of oil emptied by them. 
Here were upwards of four guineas lost. How they con- 
trived to empty the flasks, I cannot imagine; but Dr. 
Bentley and Mr. Grant both say — and how else could it 
have been done ? — that, after gnawing off the oiled paper, 
and pulling out the cotton stopper, they introduced their 
tails, and thus drew out the oil.* We tracked the rats to 
their hole by the traces of oil. This I suspect you will take 
for a jest, or a rat siory, but I declare to you that it is 
true. 

Independently of the mischief they do on land, they are 
very destructive at sea, both in naval and merchant ships, 
as well as in sloops and small craft ; and they undermine 
docks, causing them to sink or go to decay. 

Commodore Porter speaks^ in his Journal, of being obliged 
to go into some port to smoke his vessel, that the rats might 
be destroyed. T forget the number that were thrown over- 
board, but there were several tubs full of them. They de- 
stroy infinitely more than they eat, of course. If they 
get into the naval stores of a ship they make great havoc, 



* This is a fact which occurred in the family of the author's fa- 
ther. 



296 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

and they have frequently been known to gnaw through 
the water casks — it being a mistaken notion that rats ^vill 
not make a hole either in a water cask, or through the 
planks of a ship. I once spoke to the captain of a mer- 
chant vessel on the subject, who said that ike reason of 
tliere being so few holes made entirely through the planks 
of a ship, is not because of the knowledge that rats have 
of their danger in thus scuttling the vessel, but that they 
dislike salt water. The outside plank of a ship is nearly 
saturated with salt ; the rats gnaw until they taste the 
salt, and then stop. 

When rats are discovered on shipboard, the greatest 
efforts are made to destroy them ; and if this cannot be 
effected during the voyage, water is left for their use in dif- 
ferent places, lest the water casks should be destroyed. 
Mice, although they are disgusting, troublesome, mis- 
chievous, and noisy, are not so much to be dreaded at sea 
as rats ; for they require so little darink, that no apprehen- 
sion is entertained for the safety of the water casks ; they 
appear to be satisfied with the moisture which they ab- 
stract from vegetables, or else they lick the dews which 
fall on the vessel and rigging at night. 

Dr. Bentley followed the subject up thoroughly for two 
years, lea\ing no sources of information untouched. By 
this minute examination he ha.s been, able to arrive at ge- 
neral conclusions respecting the damage done by these ver- 
min. I think his estimate is a very fail' one, and far within 
bounds. I call it fair, because, were he to state the reality, 
he would lie under the imputation of romancing, and no 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 297 

man would credit his statements. For my part, I have 
been perfectly amazed at the disclosure, and I am deter- 
mined to assist in the extermination of these noxious and 
mischievous animals. 

As you may not feel a very great interest in this brancil 
of a farmer's care, I will pass over much of interesting de- 
tail to bring you to the main point, which is, the amount of 
damage done by the ravages of these vermin. I have 
stated it as Mr. Haywood's opinion, that the injury done 
to a farmer, one year with another, by rats and mice. 
would enable him to pay all his taxes. This is, he says, a 
very moderate calculation ; but still it is an immense sum,, 
and creates great surprise when we see it stated in figures.. 
In cities they are more destructive still, as they have been 
known to burrow under the foundations of large brick 
buildings, causing them to settle on one side. Whole ceil- 
ings have dropped off in consequence of their getting be- 
tween the ceihng and the upper floor. They are great an- 
noyances to \dctuallers, grocers, eating cellars, tallow 
chandlers, ship chandlers, boarding houses, manufacturers^ 
mills ; in fact, hotels, and, above all, markets and slaughter 
houses, are overrun with them. 

Some notion may be formed of this, by reading the report 
of a committee in Paris on the subject of removing a horse 
slaughter-house, which was a great nuisance to the neigh- 
bourhood. The committee state that "one of the chief obsta- 
cles to the removal of the horse slaughter-house at Mont- 
faugon to a greater distance from Paris, is the fear en- 



298 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD 

tertained of the dangerous consequences that may resulf 
to the neighbourhood from suddenly depriving the rats of 
theur accustomed food." • 

"The carcasses of the horses killed in a day, (and some- 
times they amount to thirty-five.) are found the next morn- 
ing picked bare to the bone. No^v, besides that it is known 
that they devour a considerable quantity of the muscular 
parts and intestines, which have been thrown together in 
heaps — and the quantity necessary to support a single rat 
being ascertained, some idea may be formed of the amazing 
number. 

" Dussausois, a proprietor of one of the slaughter-houses, 
has a part of one of his establishments enclosed by solid 
walls, at the foot of which are several holes made for the 
Ingress and egress of the rats ; within this enclosure he put 
the carcasses of two or three horses, and towards the mid- 
dle of the night, ha\dng first cautiously, and -svith as little 
noise as possible, stopped up all the above-mentioned holes,- 
lie, accompanied by several of the workmen, each having a 
lorch in one hand and a stick in the other, entered the yard, 
and closing the door behind them, commenced a general 
massacre ; it was not necessary to take any aim, for no 
matter how the blow was directed, it was sure to kill a 
rat. Those that endeavoured to escape, by climbing up 
the walls, were brought down by the flames of the torches. 
By recurring to this expedient every four or five days, he 
killed in the space of one month, sixteen thousand and fifty 



OUJ^ NEIGHBOURHOOD. 299 

rats. The first night's massacre amounted to two thou- 
sand six hundred and fifty rats!!" 

The committee proceed to say — " Their ferocity and vo- 
racity surpass any thing that can be imagined — to prove 
which we need only state the following fact. M. Magen- 
die having gone himself to Montfaucon to procure twelve 
rats, upon which to make experiments, had put them to- 
gether into a box. On his return home, on opening the 
box he found but three rats, the other nine being devoured 
by the survivors, and nothing remained but their tails and 
bones ! ! This fact appears incredible, but we had it from 
M. Magendie's own lips." 

There are millions of rats about the " slips" and wharves 
of New York, and indeed about all wharves and docks. 
In seasons of uncommonly high tides, the rats are com- 
pelled to abandon their holes, which are generally placed at 
common high- water mark. A lady told me not long since, 
that in going up to her chamber one night at a late hour, a 
number of rats disputed her passage up stairs. She had to 
descend, and then counted twenty rats, which followed one 
another, in Indian file, down two flights of stairs to the 
kitchen. 

Mice and rats seldom, if ever, infest a house at the same 
time. If the mice get possession first, and are numerous, 
they can keep oflf a score or two of rats ; but if they are 
weak in numbers, the rats soon destroy them, Mr. Grant 
asked us, the other day, how a rat could get into a new 
house, if the cellar doors and windows, as well as every 



300 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

outward loop-hole and door were shut. We answered, by 
burrowmg on the outside down to the bottom of the foun- 
dation, and thence underneath into the cellar. He said 
that this was never the case — that a number of observa- 
tions and inquiries led him to a knowledge of the fact, that 
rats never enter the house from the outside. 

A grocer, having just filled his shop with groceries, was 
obliged to quit it at dusk on account of indisposition. He 
did not return to it in two months, as the yellow fever sud- 
denly made its appearance in his neighbourhood, and pre- 
vented him from going back. It was a new brick store, and 
closed all around, so that there was no way for the rats to 
enter, unless they burrowed on the outside, for the doors and 
windows were faced with iron, it being a fire-proof building. 
On opening the shop, not an article was found touched by 
the rats, although the rooms were filled with eatables suited 
to their palate ; whereas the chandler-shops in the neigh- 
bourhood were nearly stripped of those articles which were 
suitable for nourishment. The rats in the latter case had 
holes of ingress and egress, before the doors and windows 
were closed. If a rat, by any means, can get in the cellar, 
he can easily work his way out, even if the doors and win- 
dows be closed on him — unless the cellar has a tight stone 
floor J fitting closely to the foundation. A rat always bur- 
rows upwards, throwing the dirt behind him, thus clearing 
the hole as he ascends. When he descends, the hole is 
made and he has a convenient covered way. If he at- 
tempted to burrow fi:om without, it would be with his head 



\ 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 301 

downwards, and the dirt would fall on him and impede his 
progress. 

Making use of these hints, I am clearing out all incum- 
brances, and have begun a thorough inspection of cellars 
and foundations ; and hearing, from an intelligent friend 
that plank and board made of hemlock resisted the attacks 
of these noxious vermin, I relaid the kitchen surbase and 
floors with hemlock boards, and I put a surbase of hemlock 
boards all around my flour and grain bins. I have done 
this without understanding the rationale of the thing ; it was 
however suggested to me that the peculiar way in which 
the hemlock splintered, prevented the progress of the gnaw- 
ing of the rats. It is said to be a complete preventive to 
their ravages ; at any rate, it is worth trying. 

The whole neighbourhood have entered into a compact 
to get rid of vermin and reptiles, as well as noxious and 
destructive insects ; our example has stimulated the sur- 
rounding villages, and the town of Moreland, with the ex- 
ception of Hetty Weed, who sets her face against all im- 
provements and innovations, have determined to pursue 
our plans. Mr. Parr says he hopes to prevail even on her 
to join the rest ; and if any one can influence her, it will be 
this gentleman. Mr. North told her that she would be 
overrun with rats if she did not take some means to pre- 
vent it, but she says that things will last her time, and after 
that her do-little -husband can do as he likes. 

The Haywoods are clever at every kind of work ; if it 

were not for them and Mr. Grant, who are our "operatives," 

26 



302 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD- 

we should not get on so well. They stimulate others by theif 
frankness and prompt activity, and without neglecting their 
own affairs, they are ever ready to help their neighbours- 
It was they who made the beginning to drive away rats 
and mice ; they offered a cent a head for all that were 
caught on their premises, and this brought the boys of 
Moreland to the task. They destroyed upwards of two 
hundred. Why do not coi-porate bodies in cities offer a 
bounty for the destruction of rats and mice ? In the town 
of Hartwick, not long since, twenty-two boys killed three 
thousand four hundred and forty-one mice. "So nume- 
rous," said the writer of this article, "had these vermin be- 
come, that the contents of the granaries, bams, and even 
potato-holes were threatened with entire destruction." 

In cities, according to Dr. Bentley's calculation, which is 
by far too moderate, the average number of rats is five to a 
house, which is equal, in fact, to a rat for every inhabitant. 
Now, in a city where there are thirty thousand houses' 
there must be one hundred and fifty thousand rats, inde- 
pendently of those which infest docks, wharves, lumber- 
yards, and markets. It mil be granted, easily, that fifty 
rats \vill devour and destroy, in one day, as much as will 
feed one man ; three thousand paupers or a standing army 
of three thousand soldiers could be supported entirely on 
the proceeds of what those noxious vermin devour and de- 
stroy, in one city alone ! 

I am afraid that you are tired of this subject, but I have 
dwelt thus long on it that you may the more readily con- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 303 

conceive of the cares and duties which devolve on a house- 
keeper and farmer ; there are many points to guard, but 
by a timely vigilance, all becomes easy and pleasant. 



304 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 



LETTER XXXVII. 

March 15. — All the plants in the hot-bed are gro\ving 
finely ; they came up equally, and look green and stout. 
Dr. Bentley is now convinced that the manure should be 
packed down hard, for his plants, although they appeared 
above ground two or three days sooner than mine, have 
not come up evenly, in fact those in the centre of the bed 
have dwindled away, the ground having sunk, at least two 
inches lower in the middle than at the head and foot. The 
Doctor bears his failure very well, determined, he says, to 
profit by it, next spring. 

The winds have been high, and piercingly cold, so that 
we could not work to advantage out of doors ; the horses 
seemed to suffer so much by it that we stopped the plough, 
I luckily planted the potatoes before this cold weather com- 
menced. I bought you an excellent pair of horses for the 
plough. They are nine years old, brown, broad-chested, 
and strongly built. I gave ninety dollars apiece for them, 
which is a fair price. I tried them for half a day, and 
liked them very m.uch. A black man, cousin to my Peter, 
and son to old Milo, the fiddler, is very desirous of living 
with you, and as he bears a good character, I have hired 
him. I have promised him one hundred and sixty dollars 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 305 

a year, for which sum he labours and boards himself ; his 
family live about a quarter of a mile from us, just on the 
edge of the common, which joins your farm. You see I 
call it yours; in truth, I feel assured of your coming here, 
and I act accordingly. You say that Hilary has told you 
his whole history, and that it is a curious one. Some parts 
of your letter are very mysterious. Julia thinks that the 
mystery is in some way connected with her, and she is ex- 
ceedingl}' anxious to hear from you. I know you do not 
wish to keep us in suspense, so pray let us hear the secret ; 
whatever it is, I hope it may be that you have discovered 
who this Ellen Beverly is. We want to hear this little his, 
tory of Hilary's, for I like the man, and our fhends are 
very much prepossessed in his favour. I hope you have 
by this time received the large packet I sent you ; it con- 
tains the memoirs or outlines of the history of some of our 
neighbours. 

A messenger came from Glensbury this afternoon, with 
a note from Mr. Devereax. He is to deliver a lecture to- 
morrow evening on vision, and we are all invited to hear it. 
Mrs. Murray has provided beds for the whole party, if they 
choose to stay ; but if the wind fall, it will be pleasanter to 
ride home, as it is full moon. As you are desirous of know- 
ing what advances we have made in the natural sciences, 
I will tell you how far this lecturer has added to the stock 
of knowledge. We have been preparing ourselves for this 
lecture, by reading several of the late authors on Vision 
and Optics. We all possess the " Library of Useful Know- 

26* 



306 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

ledge," from which we glean a few new ideas, now and 
then ; but many of the articles are written by men who 
have no talent for simplifjdng their thoughts, so as to suit 
the unlettered portion of their readers. For instance, the 
number on " Optics" is incomprehensible to ninety-nine 
out of a hundred : I am sure it might be made more 
simple. 

LUIVIINOUSNESS OF THE EYE. 

1 told you that we were to attend the Lecture on Vision. 
We returned from it very much gratified, and with a deter- 
mination to investigate the subject more attentively. 

After explaining the mechanism of the eye, Mr. Deve- 
reux dwelt for some minutes on that branch of optics which 
relates to luminoasness ; and he spoke of an Essay on the 
subject, written by Dr. Esser. Our friend's sentiments are 
at variance with that gentleman in this particular. I shall 
gend you such portions of his lecture as relate to this lu- 
minousness of the eye. Part of it has already appeared in 
print ; but the subject ^vill be new to you. 

We were, said Mr. Devereux, full}'- impressed with 
the notion that the eyes of hiiman beings, under peculiar 
circumstances, as well as those of certain animals, ex- 
hibited appearances of being illuminated by light, which 
proceeded from some developement of latent light, inherent 
in the eye itself. Thus, the eye of the cat has been pro- 
verbially noted for emitting rays of light in dark places ; and 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 307 

the Albinos have not only been distinguished for the pecu- 
liarities which attended their defective vision, as relates 
toirratibility, colour, and oscillation, but for the spontaneous 
emission of light. 

Dr. Charles Ludwig Esser, by a number of experi- 
ments, has corroborated the statements respecting the lumi- 
nousness of certain eyes; but he doubts, and indeed denies, 
the possibility of spontaneous irradiation. The luminous, 
ness of the eye in animals, he believes to proceed from the 
reflection of incident rays, proceeding from an oblong spot 
in the hindermost part of the eye. In dissecting the eye of 
a cat, he observed, that instead of the black pigment which 
is found in the back part of the choroid coat, he saw there 
" a greenish, silver-coloured, changeable, oblong spot, which 
was not symmetrical, but which surrounded the optic nerve 
in such a manner, that a greater part was above, and only 
a small part below it ; and therefore, the greater part lay 
beyond the axis of vision." 

It is this spot which Dr. Esser thinks " contributes, ac- 
cording to its tints, to the different colouring of this light, 
to which, nevertheless, the remaining parts of the eye, when 
conjoined, seem no less necessary." He infers, from close 
observation and experiment, that no radiations or emissions 
of light can be spontaneously produced ; and that neither 
electric nor phosphoric matter is inherent in the eye itself; 
that in no one instance has he been able, by irritation, or 
other favourable means, to cause such an appearance of 
light, as is reported to exist in the eye of the cat, He con- 



308 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

fines himself in his memoir to the simple position of lumi- 
nousness : he does not dwell positively on the luminousness 
in the eyes of the Albinos, although of the fact he could not 
be ignorant; yet he not only quotes a respectable author 
on this point, but on that, too, of spontaneous irrradiation. 

This author, Treviranus, was of opinion, " that the eyes 
of cats shone where no rays of light penetrated, and that 
the light must in many, if not in all cases, proceed from the 
eye itself;" 'Hhat the appearance of light has been observed 
in the eyes of human beings, as was the case with G. T. 
Sachsandhis sister,both Albinos. They had phosphorescent 
eyes, and late in the evening there appeared in them a 
lively, yellowish brightness, which darted forth in fiery co- 
ruscations or globules from the interior of the eye ; that 
their eyes rolled hither and thither, and frequently ejected 
rays an inch long." Dr. Esser then relates another fact 
similar to that of the Sachs— of Michalis, who, many 
years before his death, at t^vilight and during the night 
itself, observed irradiations of light issuing from his eyes, 
sometimes so strong as to enable him to read the smallest 
print. 

After confessing that these cases, (and we must presume 
a number of others of a similar nature,) were studied by 
him with some degree of interest, as they seemed at va- 
riance with his own observations, he asks if they can be 
" fictions." " When we read," says he, " of fiery corusca- 
tions, of globules, of eyes rolling hither and thither,"— 
(Tre\'iranus meant that oscillatory movement of the eye. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 309 

common to Albinos,) — " of their frequently darting forth 
rays an inch long, our suspicions are surely pardonable." 

Now, so far from being fictions, these are phenomena 
which frequently occur, and which are known to many 
persons. When the eyes are very much used at night, 
either in reading or writing, they become saturated with 
rays of light ; and on the sudden disappearance of the 
light of the lamp or candle, these coruscations or rays of 
light are often known to flash from the eyes of those per- 
sons who are a little advanced in life. These coruscations 
are sometimes seen as rays of an inch or more in length, 
or else as luminous globules. But, at the same time, that 
light does undoubtedly leave the eye which has been over- 
strained by use at night, and in flashes, as above described ; 
yet the fact has never come within our knowledge, that 
these flashes of hght, excepting in the case of Albinos, 
were ever visible to those who were near the persons, whose 
eyes emitted these rays ; and yet we have no doubt, if 
the eye had wanted the black pigment, it would have been 
seen. 

Dr. Esser observes, at the close of the memoir, that there 
is no question that the light seen in the eyes of some 
beasts of prey, has also its origin in reflected incident ray's, 
which proceed from an oblong spot in the hinder part of 
the choroid, and that its nature is neither phosphoric nor 
electric, nor having any psychological relation. 

There can be no doubt that we must look to the hinder- 
most part of the eye for the focus of those rays which 



310 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

cause luminousness in the eyes of Albinos and cats ; but 
Dr. Esser does not mean to say that rays are reflected in 
this -way from those eyes which have their full proportion 
of the black colouring matter. He must be aware of the 
fact that light is not reflected from opaque, black sub- 
stances; hght, falling on such dark pigments, is immedi- 
ately extinguished or absorbed. 

If the incident rays find a focus in the oblong spot of the 
cat's eye. as described by Dr. Esser, in which way do they 
leave the eye ? They have performed theu' office, that of 
transmitting a picture to the retina ; and they cannot re- 
main in the eye — as light — for they are compelled to dis- 
appear to make room for other rays, which are to represent 
other objects. The black pigment in the hinder part of 
the eye, in those who have perfect \ision, decomposes a 
certain portion of these raj'-s, and the remainder disappears 
by absorption in the choroids ; but in cats, and in Albinos, 
this cannot be the case, as there is little or no dark colour- 
ing matter in the eye. The light, therefore, must leave the 
eye precisely of the same character as when it entered. 
It is to this twofold operation — and it amounts to friction — 
that we must attribute the pain which is felt, when hght 
falls on the eyes of those persons whose eyes are deprived 
of the black pigment. 

We are of opinion that light, in its visible state, acts me- 
chanically, and that it acts on the eye according to its den- 
sity. Direct rays of light, or those reflected from polished 
surfaces, depress the retina so painfully, that the picture 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 311 

of any intervening object cannot be clearly represented ; 
whereas, incident and other rays from opaque objects, are 
so attenuated or modified before they reach the eye, that 
the impression is but slight. 

In many instances we have seen eyes, which never were 
considered as defective, appear luminous when exposed 
suddenly to the full glare of the sun. The focus, and the 
whole colouring matter of the choroids, were in these cases 
evidently insufficient to decompose or absorb the whole of 
the light. Now this light must have left the eye as lumi- 
nous rays, or we should not have it impressed on our own 
vision when we see it in another. Without understanding 
the cause of this phenomenon, we are all aware of the con- 
sequence of allowing such an accumulation of rays to fall 
suddenly on the eye, and we guard against it as much as 
possible. The sight is soon destroyed in those regions 
where there is perpetual snow. 

With respect to the opinion of philosophers, that light is 
not inherent in the eye, we must observe, that light, as lu- 
minousness, which is its visible state, is no more inherent in 
the eye than it is in flint and steel — just the same as that 
heat which proceeds from the developement of the latent 
principle caloric is not inherent in any body, being made 
perceptible to our senses, by^concussions and combinations 
similar to those which make light visible. Light, in its 
latent state, exists as an independent principle throughout 
all created matter, and it can be made visible as luminous- 
ness whenever we chose to excite it. 



312 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

That light can be evolved by a slight muscular or me- 
chanical effort, or by chemical combinations, is abundantly 
proved, by reference to the lampyrus, or fire-fly — the glow, 
worm — spontaneous combustion — and marine phenomena. 
But is not that to be called light which is seen in perfect 
ieyes, in those eyes which are sufficiently supplied with the 
dark coloured pigment ? No one can be ignorant of the 
fact, that an exceedingly vivid light is seen when we re- 
ceive a blow across the eyes ; we are too painfully con- 
vinced that what we see is light. The flash is accompa- 
nied by the same phenomenon which occurs when we have 
the rays of light from a lens or mirror suddenly presented 
to our eyes — momentary blindness. In the latter case 
however, the light is thrown on our vision from without} 
whereas in the former, it is the latent light within which is 
set free by the concussion. The blindness in both cases 
proceeds from the same cause — the insufficiency of the dark 
colouring matter, throughout the eye, to absorb or decom- 
pose the light which in such quantity is suddenly forced 
upon it. 

Now, taking it for granted that light — in the case of a 
blow across the eyes — is produced in the eye itself, what 
sets it free ? Surely it is concussion, and does not that pro- 
duce electric flashes, and sparks from flint and steel ? 

That the animal system is replete with gases, we are 
certain, and we are certain, too, of the fact of spontaneous 
combustion both in the living body and in inert matter- 
There is proof enough on record of the entire destruction of 



Ot)R NEIGHBOURHOODi 313 

animal and vegetable bodies, in this way. When we strike 
our hands together with great force, the pain we feel is 
caused by the sudden compression of the gases and fluids 
which are circulating' through the hands, and the tingling 
sensation which ensues, when the pain is subsiding, is 
owing to the sudden distension of the vessels as the gases 
and fluids return to the circulation, thus proving that the 
system is replete with gases. 

When the blow is struck across the eyes, the concussion, 
and consequent compression, must be so sudden and power- 
ful, as to bring certain substances in contact, which are ca- 
pable of incandescence or ignition. The light which we 
see must proceed from this cause alone, for the experiment 
has been tried at midnight, in places where no light could 
enter. 

If we cover our head with a dark covering, and are in a 
dark place at midnight, we can, by a simple pressure on 
the eye-ball, produce a brilliant light. This light, whilst 
passing over the choroid before it is decomposed, is always 
circular and often radiating, and continues as long as the 
pressure is kept on the eye -ball, varying in vividness as the 
pressure is more or less enforced. Rubbing the eye-balls 
quickly will produce the same light, either in daylight or 
darkness, and persons whose eyes were inflamed, have fre- 
quently complained of the painful sensation which was 
caused by the flashes of light produced by the sudden 
closing of the eye-lids. 

27 



314 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

Thus we see that light, of whatever nature it may be, is 
held in a latent state in the eye, and is as much inherent as 
IS latent heat, which is caloric, and like that principle, can 
be set free^ as it is called, by concussion, friction, or pres- 
sure. This being the case, we can easily infer that a spon- 
taneous muscular effort, involuntary, or having a " psycho- 
logical relation" — or in other words — depending on the 
will or mind can take place under any circumstances. 

Latent light, therefore, must exist in the eye of the Albi- 
no, in as great an abundance as in those whose eyes are 
perfect, but there is this diiFerence, visible light enters the 
eye of the Albino, and having no pigment in which it can be 
extinguished, it has to leave the eye in as luminous a state 
as it entered, for as we observed, light cannot be stationary. 
Muscular effort may, and does evolve light m those eyes 
which want colouring matter, and the oscillation which we 
see in the eye of the Albino, is the effort which is made to 
prevent the admission of too much light, and to throw off 
that portion which has already entered. 

Certain eyes, therefore, may be called luminous, which 
have the power of extricating latent Hght which is inherent 
or traversing the eye as it traverses other matter, and 
of throwing off from the eye, by an oscillatory movement 
of the eye-ball sQch portions of entering light, as would in- 
jure the retina. 

Albinos and cats, as well as a few other animals, have 
luminous eyes. They are a distinct species, and their pecu- 
liar vision is common to them all. All cats, therefore, have 
luminous eyes : all human beings, excepting such as are 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 315 

denominated Albinos, who have likewise luminous eyes, 
have the focus and choroid of the eye of a dark colour. 

When in cats, the eye is seen without even the greenish 
colour described by Dr. Esser ; or, when in human beings, 
the eye is seen without the black pigment, we consider 
them as anomalies. In our case, they are called Albinos. 
There may be Albinos among cats, if their peculiar vision 
does not entitle them to the name already. 

We ought not to doubt that coruscations and irradiations 
may occur in the eyes of a peculiar formation ; nor should 
we reject the assertions of Michaelis, '" that the radiations 
of light from his eyes illuminated the paper or object on 
which they fell." His eyes may have had the power of 
rendering light externally visible, as is the case with the 
lampyrus. Persons advanced in life frequently see these 
coruscations, or flashes of light, when the candle is sud- 
denly extinguished, after an evening of intense study, either 
in reading or writing. In this instance, however, the flash 
or stream of light only appears visible to the mental vision 
— ^if we may so express ourselves — and is then absorbed in 
its passage over the choroid ; thus rendering that light in- 
visible to a bystander, which is so vivid to ourselves. 

There is another phenomenon relating to the eye, which 
is quite as curious as these coruscations and irradiations, 
about which philosophers are so sceptical. We are not 
aware that any other person has observed it but ourselves: 
it has only been mentioned to few, and has nevxr been 
publicly discussed until the present moment. 



31G OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

The phenomenon of what we speak, is that under certain 
circumstances the internal surface of one of the lenses of 
the eye can be seen. If when sitting with the bright liffht 
of a spermaceti candle, aboat three feet from us, we incHne 
our head backwards, so as to make the light fall obliquely 
on the cornea, and endeavour to look, as it were, into the 
interior of the eye, and at the same time, contract the eye- 
lids, as to exclude all but a single ray of light, we shall see 
the whole of this iimer surface of the lens very much mag- 
nified, and of a bright gold colour ; taking its brilliant hues, 
of course, from the bright light of the candle. 

It requires some ingenuity to keep the muscles of the 
eye-lid and cheek in such a state of subjection and repose, 
as to see the whole figure at once. The contraction and 
dilation of the pupil is so frequent, and the muscular motion 
of the eye-lid is so tremulous, that the figure of the lens is 
broken into acute angles. Sometimes a quarter is seen at 
once spreading out like a fan, and oftener like a single, 
bright feather, resembling the peacock's ; but in every vari- 
ation, the same luminous spots and transparent globules, 
are constantly seen in the same part of the angle where 
they appeared when the circular figm'e was complete. Let 
it be recollected, that this phenomenon is distinct from the 
pencils of rays which we see through the eye-lashes. 

The spots thus seen, are in groups of three, foiu, or 
five, at irregular distances, and on the margin or border 
of the lens, which appears, when illuminated in this way, 
to be a golden, transparent tissue, or web. but of a finer 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 317 

texture and paler hue, at the margin, than in the centre.. 
This centre, which occupies two thirds of the circle, is com- 
posed of globules, irregularly shaped, interlaced, as it were, 
with a thin film-like , net-work, confining the globules to 
their places. 

The spots which we have described as being in groups,, 
and fixed on the margin of the lens, are generally of irregu- 
lar shape — some of them perfectly circular, and others in- 
dented on one side of the rim. They are, with some few 
exceptions, black in the centre, encompassed by a trans- 
parent rim, or band. 

This curious phenomenon can only be seen by those- 
persons whose eyes ha\^e become a little impaired by age ; 
and even then it requires some ingenuity and patience, as 
we before observed, to get acquainted with the mode of 
closing the eye, and fixing it, as it were, so as to render the 
experiment satisfactory. In some eyes, when the vision 
is impaired, little moats and globules, some of them con- 
nected like a string of beads, are seen dancing and sailing 
in front of the cornea, at ail times of the day, so as sometimes 
to injure the sight; and often, apparently^ at a great dis- 
tance from the eye. This is an illusion, however, as these 
motes are floating about in the aqueous humour, which 
occupies the interior chamber of the eye, and which can 
be seen by a close observer, in conjunction with the above 
phenomena ; for at the same time that we see the fixed 
spots, we can see these' objects floating about, nearer to^ 

the seat of vision. 

27* 



318 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

We have meniioned this curious factj to show that the 
spontaneous coruscations and irradiations, which appear so 
incredible to many philosophers, are less extraordinary than 
that the permanent membrane, or whatever it may be 
called, of the lens, or retina, should be seen by the curious 
process which we have described. 

As it respects light itself, we think that it does not enter 
the eye merely because it is illumination ; it is of no service 
to the eye in that capacity ; the moment it leaves the object 
from which it emanates, or is reflected, that quality of lu- 
minousness is useless and painful. It renders no other 
service to the retina, which is undoubtedly the seat of \i- 
sion, than to impress, mechanically, the length, breadth, 
prominence, and depression of the object from which it re- 
flected. 

Rays of light touch the retina in the same way that 
the fingers touch the piano to produce sounds. The 
retma is so arranged as that rays of a certain density, 
which always correspond to a certain colour, will convey 
to each portion of the reticle, by their pressure, the pecu- 
liar shape of the object which they have illuminated. We 
have seen figures represented in very good relief, by the 
simple process of puncturing a paper with a sharp instru- 
ment, such as a pin or needle, the holes being larger when 
the parts of the figure are intended to be prominent, and 
the shaxiings were produced by infinitely small points. In 
this way we imagine the retina to be excited. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 319 

From the depressed parts of an object, the rays of light 
came so attenuated or lengthened, to the seat of vision, that 
the impression is but slight ; whereas, those which are from 
the prominent points, are shorter and denser, and conse- 
quently make a deeper impression. 

That hght, when collected in a focus of a lens of great 
power, is found to have no weight, cannot disprove the above 
hypothesis, for our apparatus for testing the ponderosity of 
that essence, is still very imperfect. No less an instrument 
than one made to correspond with the eye itself will serve 
for the pui*pose of making experiments ; even then we shall 
never be able to demonstrate, by figures the exact weight 
of each pencil of rays, as they touch the different parts of 
the retina, but we shall know that they have weight. It is 
not possible to conceive how the retina could be excited 
excepting by pressure ; and a pressure which must be in- 
conceivably slight, to suit the delicacy of the optic nerve. 

If, therefore, we can instruct ourselves to believe that 
light, in its visible state, acts only by pressure upon the re- 
tina, and that black substances have the power of extin- 
guishing it ; we can easily comprehend why the eyes of 
Albinos and cats have peculiar \asion, and why excess of 
light is so painful to the former. As to cats — the very cir- 
cumstance of their having to search for their prey at mid- 
night, inclines us to admit that they have luminous eyes. 
Their senses of smell and feeling are undoubtedly exqui- 
site ; but still these alone could not direct them, so uner- 



320 aUR NEIGHBOURHOOD^, 

ringly, to the victim, when they make the fatal spring in 
utter darkness. 

Even in the most perfect eyes, how often have we seen 
them ' lighted up,' as it were, from a dull languid state, to 
that of brightness, when the mind has been excited. Their 
eye-ball undergoes no change ; it does not depend upon the 
dilation or contraction of the pupil — what then causes this 
" expression" of the eye, as it is called, does it depend on 
the muscular effort of the lids ? Undoubtedly, it does, par- 
ticularly the muscular motion of the under one ; but why 
does this give that brilliant appearance to the eye ? Be- 
cause it throws into the aqueous chamber of the eye, a re- 
novated portion of the fluid wliich fills that chamber ; thus 
not only enlarging the whole surface of the eye, which of 
itself gives beauty, but by bringing so many more points to 
the action of the direct rays of light. 

To conclude — light, latent light is ever present, and 
can be set free in those eyes, having perfect vision, by fric- 
tion or concussion, or simple pressure — ^in imperfect -vision 
by spontaneous coruscations and irradiations of visible light 
produced by muscular effort. 

In perfect vision, if no spontaneous irradiations or flashes 
ever occur, it must arise from the sufficiency of the black 
colouring matter in the eye itself, which extinguishes or 
decomposes the excess of light. When the vision is im- 
perfect, we may expect to hear of luminousness, because 
the greater part of the light which enters the eye, must re-> 
turn from it as it entered, unaltered and \'isible. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 321 

The total extinguishment of light in black pigments, is 
worthy of attentive observation, and we hope to pursue 
this branch of the subject at some future time. We shall 
conclude our remarks on luminousness by observing that the 
cause of our perception of those spontaneous flashes of light, 
as we become aged, arises from the gradual destruction of 
the black colouring matter of the eye— thus giving it like- 
wise the appearance of that dimness which is seen in aged 
eyes. 

This opinion will readily be allowed, on recollecting 
that black garments, when long exposed to the Hght of 
the sun or fire, become of a rusty brown colour — or foxy as 
the term is ; the colouring matter itself^ both of the eye 
and of the garment, being mjured by the constant friction 
which the decomposition of ii^ht causes eimong its parti^ 
cles, 



322 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 



LETTER XXXVIII. 

April I5th. — I despatched a few lin^ to you on the 
3d of this month, announcing mj marriage. I know while 
I am writing this that you caimot yet have received my 
letter, but still you must be conjecturing that the happy 
event has occurred. 

We were all married in church by a clergyman who is 
successor to Mr. Saxeweld — and in the following order. 
First, Mr. North and Miss Sidney — next, Julia and myself 
— third, Mr. Grant and Susan Haywood. We all dined at 
Mr. Haywood's, drank tea at Dr. Bentley's, and then Mr. 
Grant and myself, with our brides and bridemaids, took our 
departure — Mr. Grant and Susan to Hollybranch, and I to 
my own house. We were accompanied by Miss Wells, 
Miss Forbes, and Miss Webb. Since that period we have 
led a gay and an idle life — presents flowing in from all our 
friends, and none more interested and liberal than Mr. and 
Mrs. Parr. I forgot to say that Mr. Parr gave Juha 
away. 

Yesterday morning Mr. and Mrs. Parr called here and 
invited Julia and myself to take a ride. We made a little 
circuit of about a mile, and then stopped at Lee Cottage, 
where Dinah stood ready to welcome us. You may judge 
of our surprise, when we found that the house was in com- 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD, 323 

plete repair, and newly painted ; and the gardens, walks, 
and out-houses, in excellent order. 

Mr. Parr says he thought it better to get it done now, as 
there was a possibihty that some of you would be here 
during the summer, and he wished to make the cottage as 
alluring as possible. Julia was delighted, and Mr. Parr 
was sufficiently gratified by seeing how much we were 
pleased. Even Dr. Bentley knew nothing of his intentions, 
for we were all so much occupied with bridal affairs that 
we had no thought for any thing else. 

All the old worn out trees have been replaced by young 
ones, and numberless shrubs and plants have been trans- 
ferred from Mr. Parr's gardens to Lee Cottage ; the beauti- 
ful walk through the woods has been put in complete or- 
der ; and now, my dear Clara and James, every thing is 
ready for you. Lee Cottage is certamly yours. 

I have no wish ungratified save one — for I am sure 
of seeing you all in America — and that is, that you may 
meet with as lovely and as affectionate a woman as my 
Julia. We had selected a charming girl for you, Emily 
Forbes, but we hear that a. young lawyer by the name of 
Bradleigh, is very attentive to her, and that he is rich 
enough to satisfy even Mr. Root, who lays great stress on 
this point. 

But I must proceed to other matters, or you may charge 
me with having neglected the " conditions." To begin, 
then. In March I had all the young stocks in the nursery 
grafted, beginning with the cherries, I grafted with the 
following kinds : — Morillo— -Tradescant — Carnation — Am- 



324 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

ber — Bleeding Heart — Or Heart — May Duke — Waterloo 
— Eagle — Tartarian, and June Duke. 

My stocks were all nearly an inch diameter at the crown 
of the root where the graft was inserted. When the stocks 
were set out, it was contemplated to graft them under 
ground, and of course they were planted a Uttle deeper. 
The grafts, therefore, are quite covered by the soil, so that 
they do not want a covering of clay. When I finished with 
the cheiTies, I grafted all the peach stocks on which the in- 
noculated buds had died. These I likewise grafted seve- 
ral inches under ground, with plums of the following kinds : 
— Glueen Claude — Washington Bolmor — Gualsh — Blue 
Green, and Yellow Gage — New Orleans and Prune plums, 
besides several new kinds, the fruit of which I have never 
tasted. I find that plums succeed quite as well when graft- 
ed on a peach stock as on one of its own kind. Dr. Bentley 
says that it is an uncommon thing to find ihe roots infected 
with the " yellows." 

I grafted with twelve different kinds of apples, not forget- 
ting the famous Newtown pippin, the Swaar apple, the 
Fall pippin, and the Pomme d'Apis, or lady apple. As to 
pears I was really puzzled — so many new kinds have 
sprung up, that th^re is a difficulty of choosing from them. 
I have tasted excellent pears in this country, many of them 
imported, but none superior to two native pears called the 
Seckel and the Washington. Among the imported ones 
I have selected the following— the Duchess d'Angouleme 
— Passe Colmer— St. Germain — Vergalouse — Beurre — 
Crasane— -A mbrette— Skinless — the last six, however, are 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 825 

well known here— and a few others of what are said to be 
very fine varieties. The number of new pears which are 
presenting themselves in France, is truly astonishing, some 
of them are uncommonly fine, but we should be cautious 
about introducing too many new ones in our orchards until 
we know the value of the fruit. 

Both you and James will have fine orchards ; you will 
have about twelve hundred trees; and James, whose 
grounds will not admit of many, will have about one hun- 
dred and fifty. Bat we can supply him with more fruit 
than he wants. 

I shall begin to trim the fruit-trees to-morrow, com- 
mencing with the cherries, as the circulation seems more 
active in the cherry than in other fruit-trees. In very large 
orchards the trimming takes so much time, that it is neces- 
sary to begin m February, or March. One thing I have 
learned by my own experience, which is, that if a branch 
or twig is cut off close to the body or limb of a tree 
smoothly, so as to leave no protuberance, the wound does 
not heal as soon as if the base of the branch or twig were 
left. By base I mean only a projection of about a quarter 
of an inch, or less. I have constantly seen that the heal- 
ing process goes on rapidly, if a small ring of the base 
remains. But then there is this disadvantage attending 
it, that the ring or protuberance is apt to throw out a num- 
ber of weak shoots, which disfigure the tree. 

If we cut oflf the body of a tree close to the ground, 
when the sap is rising, the suckers will spring up in great 
abundance, if we cut off the trunk below the radiating 

28 



326 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

point, or that point whence the roots emanate, the circula- 
tion stops for the want of a conducting medium. It is thus 
with regard to the branch of a tree. The base of this 
branch is attached to the body of the tree by the means of 
its embryo roots, which are in the consistence of glutinous 
sap, or cambiuiii. If the base be cut off with the hmb or 
branch, then the sap, which was attracted by these embryo 
roots, continues its course along the trunk to the other 
branches, and the wound is slowly healed by the common 
secretions. 

If a branch be cut from the trunk, closely, so as to leave 
no base, the healing begins at each side of the base ; and 
when it is entirely closed, the wound is of perpendicular 
shape. If part of the base be attached to the trunk, then 
the wound heals all around, just as animal flesh heals. 
Wounds in trees heal in like manner with those in animals, 
beginning at the edges ; but the deposition of secretive 
matter in plants appears to be thrown off in a horizontal 
direction ; this suggests the probability that the circulation 
of sap is carried on spirally, and not perpendicularly ; for if 
the latter were the case, the healing of wounds would 
commence as well at the top and bottom of the wound, as 

at the sides. 

When I was at Mr. F.'s, I cut a square hole in the bark 
of an apple tree. It was in April. The wound healed 
and closed by means of the lateral direction given to the 
secretive matter. The top and bottom part of the cut be- 
came rigid and dry ; the^ark was thin, and adhered very 
tightly to the wood. But you will see a great deal of new 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 327 

and interesting' speculation when you turn to the articles on 
vegetable physiology and horticulture. 

All my peach and apricot trees have a band of straw 
around the lower part of the body of each tree, the end of 
the band being- inserted about a foot in the ground. I had 
a twofold object in this. One was to guard against frost, 
which this band of straw is supposed by many people to 
prevent ; and the other was to hinder the fly, called the 
Egesia exitiosa, from depositing its eggs at the bottom of 
the body of the tree. It is singular that this insect does 
not infest the bark of the nectarine. I never saw a worm 
in a nectarine tree at the roots, although they will attach 
themselves to the apricot, and even plum tree. 

We have uncovered all the grape-vines, and, as far as we 
can judge, the eyes, or buds, look plump and healthy. I 
shall throw mats over them for a few nights, as we som^e- 
times have frosts in April. The peach blossoms are open- 
ing finely, and have not been touched with the frost. It 
was so cold on the 20th of March, that I feared we should 
lose the peach buds, on account of their forwardness ; but 
they appear unharmed. It is probable that the straw bands 
acted as a protection. I am not very well satisfied with 
the reasons given for the usefulness of the straw bands, 
nor am I certain that they did prevent the frost from in- 
juring the blossoms, because one or two common peach 
trees, standing in the road near a barn, escaped the frost 
equally well ^vith the inoculated ones. 

Dr. Bentley says that we can tell an innoculated peach 
tree by the peculiarity of the petals of the blossoms. They 



328 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

always curve inwards, and look as if not fully opened. The 
colour, too, is of a deeper red than those that have not been 
budded. It is well to know these marks ; otherwise, from 
the imperfect opening of the blossoms, we might suspect 
that a whole orchard had been injured by the frost, 

Julia is an attentive observer of such things. I shall find 
her an able coadjutor in my horticultural pursuits : in fact, 
she has already imparted a very useful piece of information. 
She stuck in the ground the lateral branch of a grape-vine, 
which Mr. Parr's gardener had broken off, that she might 
examine it more at leisure, because she saw that the vine 
did not bleed when the branch was snapped off at the joint. 
The branch was forgotten ; and when going to the place, 
about a month afterwards, she found the branch not only 
alive, but actually growing. The next summer she broke 
off a dozen of the succulent ends of grape-\ines, and planted 
them in the same place, in a deep, rich mould, and they all 
grew. The place was in a north corner, where a ray of 
sun never shone ; and in that very place Mr. Parr keeps 
his beautiful camellias and Chinese primroses, as they can- 
not bear the direct rays of the sun. Julia says that she 
planted several branches in the ground, which had been cut 
off behveen the points, but they perished. It is a curious 
peculiarity in the vegetable tribe, that they can be sepa- 
rated with such ease at the articulations, or joints, whilst it 
requires an effort to break them asunder between the 
joints. 

Another fact is, that there is very little, if any, bleed- 
ing of the vine, when is it snapped asunder at the 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 329 

joints; whereas, it bleeds profusely when the stem is 
cut between the joints. But is not this a curious circum- 
stance, that so tender and succulent a thmg as the broken 
end of a grape-vine should take root in the middle of sum- 
mer, when in full leaf and sap? It shows what an 
accumulation of secretive matter there must be at each 
articulation. 

Mr. and Mrs. Grant came over to take tea with us ; and 
before they had been five minutes in the house, Mr. Grant 
was at work. The lock of the parlour door was out of 
order. He found the spring broken ; and he soon intro- 
duced another, which, he says, wall last as long as the lock 
itself. The new spring he m.ade himself of some bell-wire 

turning it over a stair-rod, he made a spiral spring of about 
four inches in length, one end of which he fastened on the 
forward part of the Sj^^-^Sifee^ lock, and the other end he 
fastened to the^eciie^v, ^i^itf<Jll <»d6tf©d>Ae^'*»ftiid«V^»s»gSJ^ J^^" 
\3jte Iv^k. You can easily imagine what a perfect spring 
this makes ; the handle, or knob of the lock moving with 
so much ease, that a child can open and shut the door. He 
is going to take all the locks off, and make new springs for 
them ; or rather, buy new springs for them. The spiral 
springs — such as bell-hangers use for their bells — are the 
exact things. One spring will, when cut, make two. They 
can be bought for thirty-seven and a half cents a dozen, in 
the hardware shops. I observed that Mr. Grant filed a 
notch in the bolt of the lock, where the end of the wire of 
the spring was fastened, that it might not slip. 



S30 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

How much of comfort depends on such small matters. 
This very lock has been a great annoyance to me, and I 
knew not how to remedy it; for I have no mechanical 
ingenuity, and there are no smiths near me. Mr. Grant 
is a real treasure in the neighbourhood ; head and hand are 
always ready ; he has a quick way of doing every thing ; 
and he always moves and places a thing properly. He 
raises a ^vindow-sash in the middle, a thing which few 
people ever do; and, as Mrs. Hajnvood is always fond of 
telling, he never suffers the back of a chair to touch the 
wall. I like to see him at work, with his quick eye and 
good humoured smile: he is the very man for you. 

Dr. Bentley intends to heat his rooms next winter by 
rneans"^f flue's, conveying beated air. The fmrnace is to 
be placed in the cellar. There is certainly great economy 
in this, and in another point of view Hke-v^dse, it is admi- 
rable. It saves the time of a domestic, and there is an 
end to air the' turmwl of ifiaking fires, cleaning grates and 
irons, and brasses, and in carrying wood and coal through- 
out the day and evening. 

Mr. Grant is making an improvement in the furnace ; he 
says that a great deal of the heat is lost, and he is exer- 
cising his ingenuity in finding such a non-conductor as shall 
prevent so much of the heated air from passing through 
the outer walls of the furnace. He thinks that there is as 
much heat wasted as would keep one room warm : and he 
finally means to continue his exeperiments until he makes 
the same furnace heat the whole house, and cook all the 
food. 



OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 331 

In England, if a man make a little improvement, he 
keeps the whole mode of doing it to liimself ; or at least he 
is not communicative, and his neighbours are not fond of 
asking questions. It does not proceed from the want of 
delicacy that the Americans ask for information on every 
subject. There is a tacit understanding on this point, one 
man asks because he knows the other wishes him to do so. 
I have frequently seen looks of contempt bestowed on in- 
curious persons. Dr. Bentley, Mr. Haywood, and Mr. 
Grant would think less of me were I not to inquire particu- 
larly into their Httle every day plans. It was some time 
before I found all tliis out ; but I like the habit very much ; 
it brings people nearer to one another in good fellowship. 
A neighbourhood is more Uke one family, and each indivi- 
dual in it is of general importance. 

We could not help smiling the other day at our new 
neighbour, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Elmer said he had been the 
first to observe that the wick in a spirit lamp was never 
consumed. " Why do you not keep that to yourself?" said 
Mr. Bingley, " it may be of importance to you at some fu- 
ture time." " Oh, no ;" said Mr. Ehner, " it is by circula- 
ting little matters of this kind, that improvements in the 
arts are made. It is this which renders the French, of late 
years, so much our superiors in scientific research. The 
(French Institute,' is one of the noblest academies in 
the world ; and, in truth, the whole world is benefited by 
it. There, what one man knows, spreads quickly over the 
whole mass ; whilst in England, from the very nature of 



332 OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

its institutions, and the character of its people, individual 
knowledge travels slowly." 

We made many experiments with the cotton wick, and 
found that nOi combustion of the wick ever look place, ex- 
cepting when a puff of wind blew the flames horizontally, 
and then only that part of the wick which came in con- 
tact with atmospheric air, was consumed. If no wind dis- 
turbed the flame, the wick remained unbumt, and it was not 
even heated ; for on blowing out the flame suddenly, we 
found the wick cold to the touch. There seemed to be a 
vacutun between the wick and the flame. This is curious. 
is it not ? 



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